


heat wave

by Magali_Dragon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Drinking Games, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, I promised myself no more fics but whoops here we are, Porn with Feelings, Sharing Body Heat, Snowed In, should have been porn without plot but then I gave them back stories and personalities, smut to stay warm of course, was going to be one shot then 13k later I had to stop before I posted a 25k one-shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:36:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29666001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magali_Dragon/pseuds/Magali_Dragon
Summary: Dany’s vacation in the Dornish mountains is thrown into chaos during a freak snowstorm, where she’s pretty sure she and her cats will freeze to death in her rental house and then they might eat her face. When she’s sure she’s just going have to make peace with that fate, the neighbor from the rental next door stops to check on her.  Jon Snow can't let her freeze to death, so he invites her to stay at his place during the storm.When the generator fails at Jon’s house, two strangers end up figuring well....now what? Throw in a couple of bottles of Dornish red and well...the sub zero temperatures might have nothing on what comes next...
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 88
Kudos: 302





	1. cold snap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NorthernLights37](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernLights37/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany encounters chaos at her rental house in Dorne when a freak snowstorm hits. Thankfully neighbor Jon is there to rescue her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I told myself I wouldn't write anything until I finished the other two pending fics and then I would FINALLY take a break, but this idea popped in my head and I couldn't stop. It was supposed to be a short smut fic PWP or whatever for my boo bitch NorthernLights37, but then I gave the beans back stories and before I knew it I was at 13k and not even near smut yet, so here we are.
> 
> So this is for LIGHTS because she definitely needed it during her own weather hell lately, I'm just sorry it took me so long, lol. 
> 
> ENJOY.

* * *

"What the bloody fuck is happening here!?"

The wind swirled in a vortex around her rented house, which seemed to shake on its very foundation. Saying something, as it was made out of adobe brick and stucco, which Dany _thought_ was supposed to be pretty sturdy. It did not seem so at all, the windows shaking so hard she feared one my just pop right out of the pane. Moisture leaked in at the base of the door and sills, which she'd tried to stave off with towels, doing all she could to keep the draft and snow from getting into the house.

The electric fireplace— why, why, WHY was it electric!?— was absolutely fucking useless since the power had gone out an hour before. The flashlight she had needed replacement batteries, her candle collection had given her a horrible headache from all the mixed scents in the air, and she was pretty sure her three cats had abandoned her to the elements for they were nowhere to be found.

 _Nothing worked._ Electricity out, which meant the heat was out, and what she'd been able to find on her phone was that turbines were frozen in southern Dorne, natural gas had also frozen and there was no way to tap it, and basically all of Sunspear and Starfall had decided to crank their heaters to 100 degrees and blew out the power grid. Which was already on its shitty legs because thanks to the government, only the Westerlands had been getting the public money to refurbish because the Lord Paramount there, Tywin Lannister, knew everyone and greased enough palms.

The Dornish were also very laid back, living their warm, desert and beach lifestyles, and now we are all going to _suffer_ , Dany thought dramatically, peering out the kitchen window at the snow building up on the formerly rock and spiky grass yard. She was horrified. She didn’t want a winter vacation, which was why she skipped out on going skiing at the Wall with her friends Missandei and Grey. She wanted to roast in the sunlight like a damn dragon, shedding off the worries and cares from the last several months of stress, both related to already being locked in her house thanks to a fucking virus that she was _positive_ Tywin Lannister was also behind, and also because her job had gotten infinitely more ridiculous since her brother decided he wanted to devote his energies to fixing the family company over the law firm he’d started with her and now she was doing double the work.

Her other brother, Viserys, already overstressed and high strung as the middle child desperate for attention and hating the shadow of his older brother, reacted predictably, and took over with relish, to the point where half their staff had quit, and Dany was trying to juggle corporate clients— which she hated and had barely looked at corporate law since the bar— with her guardianship and human rights law work.

So she decided fine, she'd take a fucking vacation, she'd lay out in the desert and she'd enjoy things she didn't have time to normally work on like yoga, research, painting, and maybe she'd even adopt a dog. The cats might have something to say about that.

Nope.

She got two days of relative sun and maybe a bit of warmth before this freak storm plummeted from the North straight down through the continent to drop snow, wind, rain, and below freezing temperatures on Dorne. Dany was a Essosi baby. She was born on an island in the humid Crownlands and promptly moved to Braavos, Pentos, and Meereen, rotating between the three for most of her life.

Now she was trying to remember stupid things from Scouts, like don't drink the melted snow water, even if it seemed like a good idea, and put buckets of water in the tub and sinks for bathing and drinking. She couldn't even get the stove to work, because it ran off gas. "Fuck," she cursed, fingers frozen and shaking, a match dropping when she'd tried to relight a candle.

One of her cats poked his head out from under a couch pillow, meowing pitifully. Viserion was her little white baby, with barely a layer of fur to keep him warm and almost no fat. Unlike Drogon, who she was sure could live forever because he was fluffy and weighed about the size of a small child. Rhaegal was nowhere to be seen. he'd been overly fascinated by her neighbor, in the rental house beside hers, who had a great white wolf-like dog. Rhaegal fancied himself a dog, so it was no surprise he was staring constantly for his wannabe companion.

"Well at least someone might come looking for me when we're frozen dead in here and you've eaten half my face," she complained to her cats, opening cupboards to see if there was _anything_ she could use to help her.

It was early morning, she'd charged her phone while she had power, filled up water while she could, and had a couple of her travel coffee mugs filled with hot water for tea. She hadn't slept well, tossing and turning as the wind and snow battered the house, which had absolutely no insulation and very little by way of blankets. She had packed clothes designed for hiking and relaxing, not digging out of snow.

Thankfully, she did bring one coat, because occasionally the desert nights did get cool, and she wanted to be prepared if she decided to go hiking later in the evening after sunset. It was not cleared for negative temperatures though. Which she would have to write the manufacturer about because _what the fuck_ it was so cold.

Nose red like a beacon, she sniffed, wiping at it and shuffling from the kitchen to the living room, sitting under the blankets she'd pulled from the guest rooms and piled in a nest. She moved to sit and Drogon screeched, rocketing out from where he'd been hiding. "Oh shut up," she complained to him, when he hissed at her for disturbing him. She grabbed him under his fat belly, cuddling him against her, gazing out the huge floor-to-ceiling windows that were allowing what little heat there was to escape to the elements.

It was pretty, all the snow, she thought. It formed strange snaking patterns as it landed along the landscaped rock and red dirt. If she was not mistaken, she might have been at the Wall now instead of Dorne. She sighed, gazing towards the hot tub and the lap pool which were useless. She licked her lips, spotting Rhaegal streaking out of one of the back rooms. "Where are you going?" she asked, turning and wondering what he was up to, her troublemaker.

Drogon yowled fearing for her safety she hoped, hearing a scuffling outside. She yelped, rolling right off the couch, startled at the sound. She lunged for the fireplace tools, grabbing an iron poker and wondering if this was out, she'd die. She wouldn't freeze to death with cats eating her, she'd be attacked by someone who thought now was a good time to murder her. She hefted the heavy poker in her cold fist, moving towards the window.

There were no curtains— they were filmy things she'd been using to stop the snow leaking in. She narrowed her eyes at the shadow of someone making their way up the walkway to her door. She couldn't figure out exactly what was with him, until she realized that the object she was seeing moving around in the pristine snow, disappearing down about a foot before jumping out again, was the big white dog from next door.

She moved away from the window and went to the door, waiting, and sure enough, there was a loud banging, knocking before pausing again. "Should I answer?" she whispered to the cats, all three of whom were in a ball on the couch, peeking over the top of the cushion. She peeked through the little window at the top of the door, a most difficult feat as she was five feet and three inches on a good day.

"Hello?" the neighbor called out. He knocked again. "It's Jon, I'm staying next door, I just wanted to check on you!"

 _Hmm...._ She eyed the huge white dog, who appeared thrilled to be in the snow, and suspected maybe he'd been there before. She glanced back at her cats. Eyebrows arched, she directed them. "Protect me."

They all turned their faces and buried deeper together. _Some pets_ , she thought, rolling her eyes and unlocking the door, tugging it open. A bunch of snow fell over from the threshold and she yelped, a gust of frozen wind smashing into her. "Hi," she exclaimed, dancing in place, shivering under her coat and sweatshirt and tank-top and leggings. "Um, come...come in I guess."

The man, who was in a heavy black parka, even fancier than hers, complete with a hood and gloves and a scarf, smiled briefly. He whistled, shouting. "Ghost! Get in here!"

 _Ghost, sounds about right for a snowy white dog_. The beast bounded towards them, his pink tongue and to her shock, bright red eyes, standing out against the gray and white weather. She stepped backwards, laughing when he landed on her welcome mat, shaking loose droplets of water and snow, stepping delicately into the house. "Um..." she mumbled, awkward, not wanting the stranger to freeze outside, but also wondering what she was supposed to do now.

The man turned to face her fully this time, tugging off a black beanie from his head. Dark curls sprung out in every direction, framing a pale narrow face with bright gray eyes. His jaw swathed in a dark beard was strong and he smiled ,a little awkward himself, reaching to tug the zipper down a little from his parka, but not taking it off fully. "Hi, so I'm Jon, I'm staying in the house next door, I just wanted to check on you." He smiled nervously, tugging his beanie around his fingers. "These houses aren't prepped well for this type of weather and I...well I wouldn't be able to sleep if I knew there was someone over here who might need help."

 _Ah, a savior complex_ , she thought, smirking. She pulled a blanket off the couch, wrapping it around her shoulders, the chill wafting off him and the polite dog—who was sitting beside him and staring up curiously— was getting to her. "Ah, well yeah thanks, I have no idea what the seven hells is happening out there." She shoved her hand out. "I'm Dany, by the way."

"Jon," he repeated. He chuckled. "Jon Snow, believe it or not."

"Wow, you're in your element."

"I didn't come down here for it, but aye," he laughed. He pulled the zipper down all the way, revealing a black sweater to go with his black jeans and black boots. She wondered what sort of deal he'd made with the devil to keep them dog-hair free. She had to roll in tape just to get out of the house with her black suits otherwise she'd be covered in cat hair.

Maybe he was a murderer, she thought, observing his good-for-burgling colored outfit. She fisted the poker tighter in her hand. It was so numb she didn't think she'd be able to wield it anyway, she had a mean roundhouse kick from her workout classes. "So ah...you live here? You're...well outfitted for snow."

He loosened his scarf, smiling politely. He had a very nice smile, although there was something else behind it. A slight sadness, she observed, recognizing it from some of the kids she had mentored and provided guardianship services for. "I'm from Winterfell, I came here for....well to escape there." He paused and eyed the poker, pointing to it, lip curving up again, amused. "Did you think I was going to attack you or something?"

"Uh...no."

"Alright." He glanced around the room, hands going to his hips, scarf in one hand and beanie in the other. The action pulled his sweater tight over his chest, her eyes instantly going to the hard muscle clearly outlined underneath, the way the material clung at a tapered waist, going into his jeans. He was fit, very fit. She stepped backwards, slipping a little in her clunky sweater boots. He reached for her, helping her remain upright. "Careful."

"So yeah, um, I think I'm fine. Nice of you to check on me."

Jon eyed her candles, some of which were about to snuff out, they'd been running so long. He chuckled softly, pointing towards them. "Do you have a flashlight?"

"No batteries."

"Lantern?"

"Um, no?"

He ran his tongue over his teeth, the move highlighting to her just how plump and red his lips were, the flash of white against his beard from his teeth. He scrubbed his jaw, nodding after thinking a moment, making up his mind about something. "Well, seems your rental company did not prep you for much. I have some supplies back at my place, so you're welcome to either come hang out with me there or I can bring them over here, whatever you are comfortable with." He smiled quickly again, brow furrowing momentarily, and pointed to her thin jacket. "And I have an extra coat you could borrow. Bit warmer." He cocked his head. "Plus, I have a generator."

_A generator!?_

She crossed her arms, scowling, chin lifting defiantly. "And why would you have a generator?"

"Because the owner of my rental house is a bit of a survivalist, so she left me just about everything," he laughed. He glanced at the cats, who were poking their faces from under a blanket, eyeing him suspiciously. "And you're welcome to bring your cats too. Ghost doesn't mind, do you?"

Ghost, she _swore_ , nodded, like he understood what was just said.

She had to admit, the offer was appealing. The idea of a warm house, with _electricity_ , and fresh water and hot water for tea, and maybe even a _shower_. She licked her lips and shifted on her feet again, still wary of this apparent savior. "And what's in it for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well I barely know you; you just show up on my doorstep in the snow and claim to have this Valyria of supplies and warmth and stuff, and all under the auspices of making sure your neighbor is safe." She scowled, lips pursing. "You could be luring me into a trap."

His brows rose. "You don't have to come over. I can bring things here for you."

"I'm fine."

As she said it, she heard a loud pop and bang, followed by a horrible hissing that to her sounded like air escaping a balloon. "What the fuck!?" she screamed, the cats screeching and racing away, Ghost snapping his jaws and whining, immediately running to the noise.

"Fuck," the Jon Snow man cursed, dropping his beanie and scarf, shaking off his parka as he ran down the hallway that led to the laundry room. He pulled open a door that led to the basement, which she'd only gone into once to see if there was an extra flashlight somewhere and had been so freaked by the creep factor down there, she'd just forgotten to keep looking. She followed him down the stairs, feet banging on the worn wood.

In the corner was a hot water tank and pipes leading around and up to the ceiling. One of which was swollen and leaking water from the screws and joints, but it wasn't that one that had her attention for too long, it was the other that had water spraying out, and more leaking from under the hot water tank. Her eyes widened, gaping, as steam rose when the hot water hit the frozen concrete floor.

The White Wolf Man, as she decided to now call him, whipped around to her. "Do you know where there's a toolbox?" he demanded.

""Uh...there I think." _I am giving this place like one star, if I ever get out of here alive_ , she vowed. She hurried across the wet floor, not bothered at all with the hot water on her feet and grabbed a heavy metal chest that looked like a toolbox. Or perhaps a vessel for sacrificing the hearts of renters. She was livid, but also terrified about what was supposed to happen next. Dany could unclog a shower drain, check a fuse box, and _maybe_ if she was desperate and couldn’t get anyone to look at it on time, change an air filter in her house. But she never considered herself a handy person. That’s why there were plumbers, electricians, and people who actually charged for that expertise.

But even she knew that water hissing out of the bottom of the very pressurized hot water tank and pipes leading through the house was _not_ good. Especially since she had no heating or electricity. At least she had _water_.

Now that didn’t seem to be working either.

“Fuck! Your feet!”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, ignoring White Wolf Man’s shocked face at her feet splashing through the steaming water. The instant it touched the frozen concrete, it hissed and steamed, the immediate burst of humidity causing her lungs to expand, drinking in the warmth. Her little Essosi heart was singing, even though the house was cracking apart at the seams. She grunted, hefting the toolbox towards him, using both hands and all her muscles straining.

 _I knew I should have learned to use the weights_ , she huffed, eyes widening slightly when the neighbor savior grabbed the heavy metal box with one hand, the cotton sweater straining on his biceps, which were impressive from her vantage point. She nibbled her bottom lip, focusing beyond him as best she could, to the leaking pipes and hot water tank. “Um, what…what are you doing?”

“Going to turn off your water.”

“What!? I need that!”

“What you don’t need is a hot water tank exploding or pipes or a bigger leak.”

“This isn’t even my house!” she shrieked. She groaned, digging her hands into her scalp, tearing at the braids, shouting. “I’m going to _kill_ my brother! This place was his idea!”

White Wolf Man rummaged and took out a few wrenches, splashing through the steam and the growing puddles of water to the tank, fussing around in the back. The leak in the pipe on the wall slowed but didn’t stop. He grunted a few times as he banged around in the corner and left without a word, running up the staircase and leaving her alone in the basement, the humidity from a moment ago now faded, damp chill creeping in.

She had no idea what he was doing—he could be stealing her things!—she ran after him, her feet and bottoms of her pants wet, and hair stringy from the burst of moisture she’d received courtesy of the broken pipes. The massive white dog was still standing at the back door, which was now open, allowing gusts of snow to stream across the floor. She yelped, sprinting towards it, and gaped, peering around the door to see a black figure crouching along the back of the house. “What are you doing!?” she bellowed, hoping he could hear over the wind.

The dog Ghost nosed her hand. She idly pet his head, wondering why dogs were like that. In immediate chaos they wanted their heads pet. Although…well…it felt nice. Her blood pressure was decreasing a bit. She glanced at him; his ruby eyes unblinking. She nodded. “Well played sir.”

Ghost licked her palm, butting his head under it again. It was a win-win for them both. He got pets, she calmed down, but what little heat in her house had now gone out with the open door and the cats were probably little furry popsicles in the living room. She was shivering, closing the door and hoping he wouldn’t be out there too long. Even if he might have been a murderer, he was helping her, and she really didn’t want to have to explain a dead dude in her backyard.

Provided she survived this mess.

She gazed out the window again, exhaling, relieved at the movement near the house edge. “He’s alive, thank gods!” She pulled the door open, hurrying him in, shouting at him. “You’re note even wearing a coat! What is wrong with you? It’s sub-zero out there!” She squealed, his pants and shirt dark with water. “And you’re going to freeze!”

He waved his hand, dismissing her concerns. “I’m from the North, this is nothing, but you…” He whistled low under his breath, glancing around the messy kitchen, the buckets of water in the sink and her current shivering state. He glanced next at the dog, who sat down next to her and began to rub his head along her thigh, eyes shutting to red slits. The man Jon sighed, nodding, making up his mind about something. “Well that settles it. You can’t stay here.”

She scoffed. “No shit, where am I supposed to go?”

“You’re coming to my place, like I said, it’s got a generator so there’s power, a fireplace for heat even if the power goes out it’s wood burning, and I stocked up the other day.” He turned around, waving his hand again. “I’m not going to hear it; you can be here without anything and I had to shut down your water so that leak doesn’t get worse.”

 _Fuck._ There was no other option. She couldn’t even think of driving anywhere. The rental was in the Red Mountains, the appeal of it being that she was far from society and the big resorts where the tourists camped. The only neighbor she even had was, well, this guy and even then, he was down the hill a little. She wrestled internally, but there was no real fight.

“Fine,” she called. She pointed to the cats, their faces peeking under a blanket. “But I bring them.”

Jon appeared stunned she would have thought he meant for her to leave them. “Of course, I’m not a monster.”

“If you were a monster, you’d say you weren’t a monster.”

“That’s not true.” He flashed a quick grin. Something flickered in her belly…or maybe lower, but she pushed that aside. Now was _not_ the time. His Northern burr rumbled, teasing. “Only murderers say that.”

She rolled her eyes. Licking her lips, she sighed and crossed her arms tight over her chest. “Well fine, I have no real choice, I’ll either freeze to death here or be murdered by you, but at least I will have a bit of a chance of fighting back if I have the use of my limbs.” She pointed to him. “Stay there. I’m getting their carrier and a bag.”

“Please change your socks too, you’re going to get sick!”

The steaming hot water from the leaking tank downstairs hadn’t bothered her at all, she had the nickname growing up of “Unburnt”, but now that she had been running around and standing in the cold door, her formerly fashionable Dothraki suede and faux fur slipper boots were useless, if not ruined. Also, her feet were getting _very_ cold.

The upstairs was even colder than the rest of the house when she ran up to her bedroom, grabbing one of her ‘weekender’ bags and stuffing random bits of clothing into them. All her warm gear was already on her and sweat had begun to chill on the base of her neck and in the small of her back, the shirt sticking against her damply. She shivered, bunching up some underwear and a few t-shirts and a pair of silk pajama bottoms. The workout clothes she bypassed, save one of her sets of running tights because at least they wicked away moisture.

Dany shot a final look at the sandals and sundresses, glaring at them. They were offensive to her now, sitting there are all cute and waiting for her to be sitting outside in the warm evening air or by the pool. “Fat lot of good you’ve been,” she cursed them, and snagged her hiking boots by the door, hurrying downstairs. She kicked off the Dothraki slippers and shoved her feet into the boots, hopping around and calling out to the Wolf Man. “Anything else I need to do, or can I just set this house on fire you think?”

“Something tells me your renter won’t like that.”

“Damn my renter to the seven hells, they haven’t even bothered to check on me.”

Jon was shrugging into his coat. He smiled again. The little half-smile that kind of did things to her she preferred not to think about because _it was not the time._ This was life and death or whatever, not flirting at happy hour. Except he was really cute, now that she could see him in full focus, without him running off to turn off pipes and things. The little smile curved up at the corner of his lip, his eyes crinkling slightly. “They should, aren’t they making money off you?”

“Yeah right.” She tore away from staring at him to finish gathering things, going into the laundry room to get the cat stuff. Lannister Realty, she was going to let them have it in the reviews. “No way, I’m fighting for my money back on this trip or at least a damn discount.” She took down the crate, folding a few towels into it to keep the boys warm on the trip over to his place. “Um, can you get their food out of the pantry? Also there’s some really nice Essosi tea that I kind of can’t live without.”

“You were prepared by stocking up on tea, but not warm clothes?”

“Um, judge much Mr. North?” She came out of the laundry room with crate, remembering to grab a few kitty toys for the boys, although they might be too terrified to think of playing. She bustled over to gather them, Rhaegal and Viserion willingly getting into the crate and curling together in the back, while Drogon as his usual diva self, hissed and swiped. She lunged for him, snatching him around his fat middle, his hissing devolving into pathetic howls.

Jon had a reusable grocery bag filled with things from the kitchen, holding it up. “Got the things. Aw, he doesn’t seem happy, does he?” He leaned over to the crate, lightly brushing his fingers along the edge, where the boys were crying now, a little chorus of mewls. “It’s just a few minutes guys, then I promise you can have all the warmth you want. Plus, some steak from Ghost’s dinner.”

Dany wasn’t sure what happened, but she thought one of her ovaries might have popped at the sight of the handsome man cooing to her cats. She shook her head momentarily, closing her eyes and inhaling deep. _Focus Dany, fucking focus, this is serious now._ She turned away, picking up her electronics and chargers, stuffing them into her tote with a few books.

He picked up one of the books she finished, a biography on a Northern king. “How was this?”

“Um, predictable. The Starks are incredibly boring.”

“They certainly are,” he muttered, turning the book over to read the back. He wrinkled his nose, dropping it back onto the accent table beside the couch. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, taking out gloves. “Let me take some things. It’s a little hike through the snow down to my place.”

“I got it.” She slung her tote over her shoulder, the Weekender bag had a cross-body strap, and she took up the crate in her other hand. She smirked at him. “See? I got it.”

He chuckled. “Well alright then. You don’t have any other coat to wear?”

The one she had on was the one she’d been wearing around the house. She sighed. “Yup, all I got.”

“Well I’m glad I stopped by when I did.”

Without another word, he opened up the front door and the dog leaped out, jumping headfirst into the snow. She braced herself and plowed ahead, shuffling things in her hands long enough to lock the door, although she didn’t think it mattered. Who was going to want to get through this mess just to find a house with no heat, water, or power?

Turning, she steeled herself against the snow and wind and frigid temps, jumping off the porch and into the snow to follow this Jon Snow.

* * *

Warmth. Lovely, glorious, glowing, golden warmth.

If she could have crawled into the large stone fireplace in the center of the cozy living room with its exposed brick and timber beams, overstuffed furniture, and plush rugs over a lovely hardwood floor, Dany would have. She almost dove headfirst into it, along with her cats, when she entered Jon's house, after a particularly treacherous trek down the hill and through a patch of trees to his house. The roads were all blocked, which apparently made this a faster route.

She shed her coat, boots, soaked socks, and one layer of pants and hoodie the moment she entered the house, snowflakes shaking free of her hair and melting on her eyelashes. Fingers and face numb, she released a cry, falling towards the fireplace, hands outstretched zombie-like, and allowing the orange and red flames crackling merrily behind the grate to bathe her in their heat. Jon let out the boys, who flew to the fireplace without even bothering to check out their new territory— very un-catlike— leaping onto the stone hearth and rolling along the brick to thaw out their cold paws.

"You should get a hot shower," Jon advised, picking up the clothing she'd started shedding like a second skin. He shook out the coat, making a face at it. "this is not rated for cold."

"I know, it's rated for hiking in the supposed to be snow free mountains," she said. She shivered, rubbing her hands along her upper arms, hugging herself to keep in the warmth that had started seeping through her frozen skin. It was wonderful. The prickles in her feet, feeling returning to them, awakened her further. She scanned the living space, noting it was serviceable, not a lot of decoration. There were fluffy blankets in a pile on the couch, a laptop tossed onto a coffee table and books stacked here and there.

Through an archway she saw into a modern kitchen, where Jon was stowing the items he'd rescued from her house. She poked her nose into another room, which looked to be a study or library, floor-to-ceiling bookcases and a view overlooking a cliff. "You really could kill me here," she called, keeping up the running gag. "Throw my body over that cliff."

"That'd be pretty stupid."

"Why?"

"Because that cliff drops down to the town, you can see it on a good day through the trees." He entered the study, smiling, amused. His eyes were lighter now that she had better light to see them, the gray stormy, but no longer looking black. He gestured towards the living room. "The bedrooms are upstairs; I can take your things there."

Dany was about to follow him, when sanity prevailed. She pushed her hand out, stopping him from leading her up and taking her bags. "Hold it, hold it."

He paused, lifting his face. "Yes?"

She narrowed her eyes, studying him again. In the streaming light from the fire, the kitchen, and what looked to be a chandelier made out of antlers hanging above, she took in her handsome savior. _Very handsome._ His face was tinged pink from the cold, the tip of his nose bright red. It was kind of cute. She shook free that observation, blinking and noting that he was indeed very trim. He'd shoved his shirtsleeves up to his elbows and she thought she saw a tattoo peeking under the material from his right arm. She turned around, noting the lack of personal details in the place, but it was obviously lived in.

Ghost had rolled right up to the fireplace, giving the cats a wide berth, settled on a red pillow the size of an inner tube, chewing on a dinosaur bone. IT looked like a dinosaur bone. He met her gaze, tail thumping. Dogs had good instincts, she thought, and narrowed her eyes further on Drogon, who had abandoned his brothers and was stalking towards her. She knelt, picking him up, and held him towards Jon, who was waiting patiently. She watched her cat, who stared at him, and after a moment, closed his bright yellow eyes and flicked his poker-brush tail, body thrumming from the heavy purring that commenced.

_Well alright then._

"Huh," she commented.

"Huh what?"

"Drogon doesn't hate you. That's a first." She set him down, the cat slinking to Jon and wandering about his feet, until he accidentally stepped on a melting puddle of snow, and hissed, ricocheting into the living room.

Jon smiled again, his curious gray eyes crinkling. "Like I said, my mother would kill me if she knew I left someone to fend for themselves in this mess. I'm glad I stopped when I did, you were in dire straits there."

Not denying that, Dany nodded. "Well...thanks. This is just a bit weird."

"Here." He walked over to a bag hanging on a hall tree beside the big front door, rummaging in it and removed his wallet, flicking an ID card towards her. He chuckled. "I'm not a crazy person."

"that's what crazy people say," she sang, studying the ID he'd thrusted to her. She frowned, drawling out his name. "Jon Snow. You are from the North."

"Told you."

"Hmm, well...thanks again." She handed him the card back. The ID photo was horribly unfair, he was too attractive in it. She looked like a hungover vampire in hers. It had an address for Winterfell, the North, and according to the restrictions, he wore corrective lenses. She smiled briefly. "Where are your glasses?"

"I put the contacts in this morning," he retorted. He chuckled, stowing the ID away. "I could put the glasses on for you later if you want."

 _Is he flirting with me?_ She couldn't tell. His cheeks went a little pink again and he shuffled to the stairs, gesturing again and picked up her biggest bag, handing it to her. "Like I said, there's hot water. First bedroom on the left is a guest room, there's an ensuite bathroom, towels in the closet. I can find some warmer clothes for you if you want."

She shifted on her feet, skin prickling on the back of her neck and along her arms. Not from the chilled sweat, not from the feeling returning to her nerves, but from...she licked her lips, eyes locked on his. Everything in her system became very aware at that point that she was a woman, and he was a man, he smelled _very_ nice now that she was this close to him and not consumed with thinking about survival, and they were alone in this big house together.

The back of her throat closed a little, forcing a tiny cough when she tried to speak. She coughed again, swallowing hard. "Um, thanks that would be...nice. Thank you."

"Hot water is on the left, cold on the right," he teased.

She cocked her head, smirking. "You're just full of jokes, aren't you?"

"Believe me, you're the first person who has ever said that."

"Thank you," she said, honest this time, no joking intended. She glanced to the windows, rattling again in the wind. She shivered, this time from the realization that she had been very close to serious danger had he not shown up. She reached her hand out, taking her bag from him. In doing so, her fingers brushed against his, causing a sharp crackle. She yelped, startled, fingertips tingling from shock.

He coughed, shifting and moved away from her. "Um, static...it's static."

 _Yes, of course, static electricity._ She tore her gaze from his, clutching the bag, and pounded up the stairs, forcing herself to think about what he'd said. Room on the....left? Right? _Damnit!_ She fumbled, reaching for a door and pushed it open, only to realize very clearly that she was _not_ in the right room.

It was clearly Jon's.

The bed was made, the duvet merely tugged up to the pillows. Unlike her room, there weren't bags and clothes sitting around half-emptied, he'd been there awhile. There was a towel draped over a chair near the bathroom and on the nightstand, she saw a pair of glasses sitting on top of a book. The man clearly liked to read. She moved to leave, embarrassed she'd wandered into the wrong place, when she paused, seeing something in the corner, shoved away.

Crutches, along with what looked like a walker of some sort.

 _Huh_ , she thought, not realizing that he had any sort of mobility issue, having hauled himself through the snow to her place and then back. She stepped away, closing the door quietly, as it was absolutely _none_ of her bloody business. She turned to the other door across the hall and opened, into a warm room with relaxing beige tones, realizing this must be the guest room he'd intended her to use.

It took her all of five minutes to strip and jump into the shower, the steaming water hitting her skin with whiplash feeling, her jaw dropping, an undignified groan releasing from deep inside her belly. "Fuck," she moaned, hands on the stone wall, savoring the feeling. She hadn't realized how long it had been since she'd had a hot shower. A bath would have been better, but the room didn't have a tub. No matter, she would be quite fine here.

She scrubbed her gritty hair and face, using every single little travel-sized toiletry that had been set out on the shelf in the shower, plus the ones she'd remembered to pack. When she finished, her skin bright pink and pruny, her hair piled in knotted braids on top of her head, she entered the bedroom to find that her wet and soiled clothes were gone, replaced with a pair of flannel pajama pants, black hoodie, and rolled set of thick wool socks. There was a scrap piece of paper set on top.

heart hammering against her ribs, she grabbed it, scanning the scrawling writing.

_These might be a little big, but they're warm. Don't worry I didn't peek. I'm a murderer, not a pervert._

"He has a sense of humor," she murmured, smiling in spite of herself. From what she gathered in her admittedly few interactions with those of the North, they were not known for anything that could constitute fun or humor of any kind. The majority were boring, too honorable for their own good, and overall stubborn stuck in another time types. There was a reason they were constantly trying to secede from the remaining six provinces.

She pulled on clean undergarments, choosing cotton granny panties over the red lacy thing she'd grabbed, deferring to the desire to be warm over sexy. Pausing over the decision, staring at her reflection in a floor-length pedestal mirror in the corner, she plucked at the waistband. They weren't _sexy_ but did conform to her arse— which was a good arse if she said so herself— nicely. Plus, they didn't have the little dragons on them that her best friend Missandei got her as a gag gift. Those ones were in her bag. These were just plain purple.

It was something, she decided, pulling on the flannel pants. They were huge but rolling down the waistband a couple of times and using a hair tie to bunch the fabric to the side worked and they were _so comfortable_ she wanted to burst into tears. The hoodie was also huge, tossed on over her tank-top and when she pulled it down over her head, she caught sight of the logo, her curiosity further peaked.

> _SNOW_  
>  _Westeros Army_  
>  _Night's Watch_

"Fascinating," she murmured, tracing the white stenciled lettering on the hoodie's left breast, cocking her head. She thumbed the material, soft worn fleece, and noted that it might have been darker, but numerous washings had turned it more of a charcoal color. It was definitely not something from a Northern gift shop, but the real deal.

_Who was this guy? What was he doing in Dorne?_

Not my business, she reminded herself, stuffing her feet into the thick gray wool socks. Overall, she felt a bit like a walking blanket, which was perfectly fine. She was toasty, her face clean, and now the exhaustion she'd felt earlier had faded, a renewed sense of energy coursing through her, curious to engage with this Northerner and find out just who she was now snowed inside with.

She padded down the steps, poking her nose into the kitchen, where Jon Snow was inspecting the contents of his fridge. "Do you have ice?" she asked.

"I can't tell if you're joking or not." He closed the fridge, a carton of milk in his hand. He set it on the counter, and she realized there were two mugs there. "I took the liberty of making that tea you wanted over your own cats' food."

"It's good!"

"We'll see." He looked more a coffee drinker and she confirmed as much when he opened a cabinet to take down some sugar, revealing an array of differently packaged coffee beans. He set the sugar beside the mug, sheepishly shoving his hand into his jeans' pockets. They were so skinny on him, she wondered how he could fit his hands between the material and his skin. "Um, wasn't sure how you took it."

Smiling, she approached the granite countertop slowly, not making sudden moves. "With milk, usually, thank you."

"Afraid all I have is regular milk, if you drink almond or whatever, you'll have to make do."

"Almond milk is for hippies," she said. "Or people with celiac I guess."

He chuckled, wandering to inspect the tea kettle on the stove. "My ex was obsessed with almond milk. Had to be a specific brand."

"That's intense."

"Yeah, she was a bit much."

Dany observed him through her lashes, testing the waters. "Hence why she's an ex?"

"Among other things." He didn't elaborate, no need to with her, but she wondered if he'd dropped the 'ex' statement a bit casually, letting her know he was unattached. Or she was reading far too into things. His back was to her, studying the kettle, and she took the moment to gawk at the rest of his kitchen, clean and orderly like the rest of the house. She sighed at the snow continuing to pile up on the windows and moved towards a cracked door, poking at it and seeing there was a laundry room, her clothes laid out to dry.

She glanced over her shoulder. "Mind if I start a wash of my clothes? I'm afraid it's been a couple days and they're the only things I have that are warm."

"Go ahead."

"Thanks."

Clothes done and, in the wash,, she stepped out to see the tea was ready, Jon studying the back of the tea box. She walked over to him taking it from his hands and wagged it up at his nose. "This is good shit, can't be burning it."

"Burning tea? Isn'it it boiling water?"

"Well normally I'd heat the water to a certain temperature, but beggars and choosers." She was grateful he'd packed the tea strainer and she set about packing the loose leaves into it, pouring hot water and waiting for it to strain through, before she did the same with the other cup. A splash of milk into hers, she handed him the container. He took it and did the same. She grinned, lifting the gray ceramic mug and clinked hers to his. " _Dracarys._ "

"Ah, Valyrian," he murmured over the rim of his mug. "I was wondering."

She made a face, before sipping the tea, and groaned happily, pleased at the warmth spreading through her body again. "Ugh, so good. Straight from the markets in Vaes Dothrak. Hard to get on this side of the world."

"You travel?"

"I was born a wanderer," she confessed. They left the kitchen for the living room, where the cats had made themselves quite at home. Drogon was sitting on an overstuffed chair, tail flicking and eyes slit in happy kitty pleasure. Rhaegal was batting around a tuft of white dog hair, nasty creature, and Viserion was curled in a white ball beside the fireplace. Ghost was watching Rhaegal from his pillow, head cocked, no doubt wondering why an animal would be so fascinated in the leftover fur from another.

She sat down on one end of the couch, Jon Snow taking up the other. Her feet drawn under her, she smiled politely at him. He was curious, his feet propped up on the coffee table, knocking slightly into one of the books. She noted it was from an author she liked, Aegon Summer. Thus far they seemed to have the same taste in things. "What do you mean wanderer?" he asked.

"My family moved around a lot; we were in...business." That was the easiest way to explain Balerion Industries. Plus, she didn't feel like getting into her sordid family past with a stranger. She arched her brow. "And you? You're from the North and here you are in Dorne. Thanks for bringing all this shit with you by the way."

He snorted, sipping the tea. He shrugged, glancing down at the mug. "this isn't bad."

"Told you."

"Aye, well, trust me I didn't want this shit following me." He shrugged again, voice quiet, glancing out one of the large side windows to the snow. She could see from the couch there was a wide deck, probably with a great view. "I left all the cold and snow for warmth."

"What is this, you think?"

"Climate change."

She smiled, her nose wrinkling, wondering about him. "I thought you Northerners didn't believe in that."

He rolled his eyes rather epically, she wondered if they'd get stuck in the back of his head. "That's the _other_ Northerners. I hate them. We are not all like those nationalists. Think the world revolves around them."

"But it does Jon, didn't you know? The sun rises and sets in the North and we all have to bow down to what the North wants, even though you guys have no real industry or economy of your own." She grinned wide, when he shot her a look that was simultaneously fascinated and horrified. She wagged her tongue. "Sorry, I could tell you were really into it, just wanted a reaction."

"I am giving you shelter, and this is how you repay me?" He was smiling though, that was good. "Getting my ire up about Northern politics? You know that's not what you're supposed to talk about."

"What?"

"Politics and religion."

"Oh well my family answers to neither gods nor men, so."

His dark brows jumped to his hairline. He'd pulled his curls back into a pretentious little manbun, which she itched to remove, just to see if they felt as soft as they looked. "Aye?"

"Ah, well, that's why my family says." Along with their _fire and blood_ philosophy. She continued to hug her mug of tea, knees to her chin and felt quite cozy, grateful for his hospitality. She sighed, setting the mug down on the coffee table and sat up slightly, searching for a coaster. In lieu of one, she moved a book over and put the mug on it.

"Ah."

"Ah what?"

He pointed to the book. "You're a coaster person."

"And what heathen doesn't put coasters down for their drinks?"

"Judging from all the rings on the wood there, me, I guess."

"Animal," she chided. She gathered herself back up into a ball and took down a blanket from over the back of the couch, wrapping herself in it and sniffing, her nose slightly runny. If she got a cold, she suspected he'd never let her live it down, since he'd told her to change her socks. "So Jon Snow...Northerner in Dorne...what do you do exactly? Other than rescue fair maidens from their frozen powerless rental hovels?"

He smirked again; she quite liked the look on him. "Something tells me you are most definitely not a fair maiden."

"Oh seven hells no, I'm the queen on the back of a dragon."

"Well Dragon Queen." She flinched slightly; that's what they called her in the office when they thought she wasn't in earshot. He didn't notice her reaction, but she also knew he didn't mean it the way the office staff did. He put his mug down onto the table. She eyed him, brow arching, warning. He smiled and moved a book over, using it as a coaster. Leaning back, he put his feet back up on the table. They were bare, to her horror, and she marveled how he could just chill without a care, bare feet and arms after wandering in the snow. Northern blood, indeed. He sighed. "I suppose you could say I'm....between jobs."

"Unemployed?"

"Between jobs," he repeated.

She narrowed her eyes but said nothing. The rental fee alone on this type of place was definitely not cheap. No way an unemployed probably former military Northerner could afford this place unless he was keeping something from her. Which he probably was, she reminded herself, and she had no business to pry. She was just too curious for her own good most times. "Suit yourself."

"And you?"

"And me?"

"What do you do? Other than come on vacation in the middle of a snowstorm."

"The weather did _not_ forecast any of this until I arrived!" she shouted, defending herself.

He laughed. "Clearly."

She sighed, running her tongue over her teeth. Most men didn't like it when they found out what she did. They felt insecure about it. Jon Snow...well she had known him a grand total of a couple hours now, so...if he felt insecure, fuck it . He could turn her loose to the cold wild, but it waws obvious he wouldn't. He had already established his chivalrous code. "I'm a lawyer," she said.

"What kind?"

"Human rights." She smiled at his wide-eyes. "I specialize in a little arcane bit of international law with respect to slavery. You'd be quite surprised at how often it actually comes up in various areas of the world."

He frowned. "That's horrible."

"It really is." She sighed, raking her fingers over her hair. The hoodie fell down over her arm and she moved to push at it, so she didn't keep getting swallowed by the fabric. "But it's quite rewarding. I don't just work on slavery matters, I do a lot with respect to women's rights and children in particular, in fact I'm also a guardian-at-law."

"My sister is a lawyer." He wrinkled his nose. "She's one of those Northern nationalists."

"Ugh, I'm sorry."

"Eh, she's never been my favorite." He wiggled his finger around the room, eyes scanning the space. "This place belongs to my _other_ sister. Well, cousin I guess."

"The survivalist who has this place on its own generator?" She wondered what sort of woman that was.

"Aye, she's kooky. Her husband is a metal worker, so some of the stuff you see is his art."

That explained a couple of weird metal and steel looking pieces she'd seen on the tables and mantle but hadn't thought much about. They were rather pretty. She wondered if she'd seen his work elsewhere, it looked familiar. "It's really lucky I guess; she happens to have all this stuff stocked up and then we get hit with this...whatever the seven hells it is."

"Apocalypse?"

She grinned. "That's what I'd call it. I wanted to hike and lay by the pool that is now probably destroyed."

"You can still hike."

"In this?" she exclaimed, shriller than she'd intended. He laughed, giving her a 'why not' look. She waved her hand towards the windows. "You saw my jacket! I have nothing against this. I'm a Valyrian baby, give me all the heat and sun in the world. I have dragon blood."

"Ah...." Recognition alighted, before she realized what she'd done, and she cringed inwardly in understanding. He tapped his fingers on the edge of the couch, arm stretched along the back, his other hand rested on his knee, and she realized he was rubbing it lightly. The image of the crutches and walker came back to her, wondering if he'd been injured somehow. He didn't notice her glance down to his knee and continued. "You're a Targaryen."

 _Fuck._ She frowned, grim. "I am. How'd we fuck you over?"

"Whoa." He lifted his hands defensively. "I'm not going after you. Your brother has done a good job recovering."

Balerion, under her father's guidance, had driven many individuals out of their homes, destroyed energy prices and when their stock crashed, ruined the retirements of thousands. She ran into many people who blamed their misfortune on the Targaryens. "Yes," she agreed, grateful for his politeness. "Rhaegar's takeover has done wonders."

"You guys are looking into solar energy now? Using dragonglass panels?"

She blinked, surprised. "How'd you know that?"

"They came up to the Wall when I was there to scope the place out." He did not elaborate, and she moved to ask him about being at _the Wall_ of all places, which made sense given the Night's Watch hoodie, but he cut her off before she could even ask, jumping off the couch. "You hungry? Your kitchen didn't look like it had much."

At the mention of food, her stomach growled. "Um, yeah, sure."

"Hope you're not a vegan or anything, Ghost and I tend to be pretty meat and potatoes guys."

She smiled over the top of the couch, watching him in the kitchen. "I am a vegan."

He popped his head back in, staring at her, blank. After a second, she flashed a wide grin, and he rolled his eyes. "You're a liar."

"I'm a lawyer."

"Aye, you're a liar." He was teasing, she heard it in the light way he called out, and she smiled, finding him incredibly easy to get along with. She got off the couch and carried her tea to some of the shelves, inspecting the steel artwork and the titles that lined the hardwood shelves. There was a large helping of mostly modern fiction, some history, and a collection of books on Braavos and ancient religions of Essos, which interested her.

She plucked out one, looking at the title, smiling warmly. "You have the Jade Compendium. This was my Uncle's favorite."

"Aye, it's a classic."

"Tales of the Targaryens of old."

"You related to them?"

"If you believe my family, we're related to dragons too." Dany loved the stories her brother used to tell her when she was growing up. How they had dragonblood, they could fly in their dreams, and were related to kings and queens. She flicked through the illustrated, special edition of the Compendium, landing on a page about direwolves. Out of the corner of her eye, Ghost lifted his head, tail wagging when she smiled at him. "What kind of dog is he?"

Something banged around in the kitchen, Jon calling over the noise. "Who knows. If the doggy DNA report is to be believed, he's got more wolf in him than dog."

"Aw he's so sweet."

"Wait until you have food in your hand, he becomes vicious."

"Now who is the liar?" Dany went over to Ghost, kneeling down to rub the sweet baby's head and neck, nuzzling into his muzzle. He yawned, silent, and licked her cheek. She giggled, settling against him. "Gods, if I had you with me, I wouldn't need to come here for warmth. You're so fluffy!"

Jon came back into the living room. "Ghost, stop flirting."

Ghost yawned again and it took her a moment to realize he wasn’t yawning, but silently howling or trying to bark, no sound coming out. "Is he mute?" she wondered. Viserion was partially deaf, but he could meow.

"Aye. He's albino too. Was the runt of his litter. Now he's the biggest. My cousins have his brothers and sisters."

"What a good boy." She lifted his paws, kissing them and grinning. "you smell like corn chips!"

Jon didn't tell her what he was working on in the kitchen, so she let him be, collecting her electronics from her tote and finding some plugs to charge them up. She couldn't believe the snow, checking the weather and noting that it wasn't letting up soon. Even when it ended, the cold would stay for another couple days. She sent a very angry email to Lannister Realty about her current situation, demanding recompence of some sort. All she got was an out of office from Tyrion Lannister, the main agent, wishing her a pleasant vacation. "Fucker," she cursed, and texted her brother, letting him know what was going on, since he'd blown up her phone in the last couple hours with question marks about her status.

She also texted her best friend, letting Missandei know that her "hot neighbor from the North" had come to help her when the shit hit the fan and she was currently staying with him. The phone buzzed immediately.

> _Details please._

Dany sent a photo of Ghost to Missy. _Look at this fuzzball. I'm in good hands._

> _He's handsome, but I'm talking about the HUMAN. What's his bone factor?_

She ran her tongue over her teeth, glancing back into the kitchen, where Jon was at the stove. The skinny jeans, she noted, were molded to one of the best asses she'd ever seen. Her lips twitched and she replied back, typing fast. _Missandei I'm just trying to stay warm and alive; I'm not interested in that._

> _Ah, so he's like a 10000 on a scale of 10._
> 
> _He's a stranger!_
> 
> _You're on vacation. You're holed up in a cabin thing with a hot dude and a fireplace. Get it together girl. I want an update tomorrow. He's not a pervert, right?_
> 
> _He just says he's a murderer, not a pervert._
> 
> _Sense of humor in a Northerner?_

_I know it shocked me too._ She glanced down at Viserion, who had begun to paw her arm, meowing and reaching up for her. No doubt he wanted cuddles. She held her finger out to him, stilling him and finished up a text to Missandei. _I'll talk to you later. He's making us lunch._ Before she put her phone away, she caught sight of Missy's reply.

> _You're on vacation sweets. Don't let the snow get you down. LIVE._

That's what she wanted to do, but the snow had quite literally buried her. She shoved the phone aside, picking up Viserion and snuggling him into her. The white cat fur on the black hoodie was not a good idea and she wondered how Jon Snow could stay so pristine in his all-black ensemble with a shedding beast such as the one rolling around on the hardwood. Rhaegal was inspecting his new friend, his little pink nose wrinkling and poking at Ghost. Drogon was nowhere to be found.

She set her bag on the floor, walking over to the kitchen, and discovered that Jon Snow was not only handy in the fixing water pipes sense, but also handy in the kitchen, for he was plating two perfectly done grilled cheese sandwiches. "Can you cut it in half?" she asked, teasing.

"If you want it cut in half into rectangles, I may have to kick you out."

"Ugh!" horrified, she sat down on one of the barstools, the plate set before her, the sandwich sliced into two triangles. "Who does that? Sandwiches should always be in triangles."

He sat down across from her with his plate. "Good to know I'm not the only one who thinks that." He glanced at Ghost, who magically and silently appeared at his side, sighing. "What? You think you need this?" He cut one of the triangles into another half, handing the dog one of them. Ghost politely took the sandwich, carried it to his bowl in the corner and dropped it, tail wagging and began to eat.

Dany was stunned. "He's got better manners than I do."

"He's very well behaved."

"Clearly." She bit into her sandwich, almost crying in happiness. It was perfectly grilled, the bread crusty with not too much butter on the top, with just enough chew, and the cheese melted on her tongue, a mix of sharp cheddar and something a little nuttier. She pulled away and studied it, cocking her head. "Is this gruyere?"

His eyes widened and he smiled briefly. "Aye."

"You know your cheese Jon Snow."

"I'm from the North. It's one of the basic food groups up there."

"Along with bread, I imagine."

"Meat and ale are the other two," he said. He climbed off the stool and opened the fridge, removing a water filter pitcher. She accepted the glass he poured her and eyed the rack of wine behind him. There were a few bottles of Dornish red, and she could also see a half-empty bottle of Northern whiskey on the shelf. _Nice_ , she thought.

Finishing off her sandwich in about ten seconds, she felt full, but knew she'd still be hungry soon enough. She licked a bit of cheese off her thumb, closing her eyes and _maybe_ moaning a little in happiness. When her eyes flickered open, she was surprised to see Jon staring over at her, his pupils dilated, and his full lips slightly parted. he was holding his empty plate by the sink, clearly distracted. She pretended not to notice, but her skin prickled, pulse quickening and thumping in her ears.

If Dany was not mistaken Jon Snow might have been checking her out.

She could not have looked less sexy in the oversized clothing, messy hair on her head, and licking cheese off her hands like a child. He quite literally had to rescue her from a house of horrors, no way was that sexy or attractive. Dany swallowed hard, taking a large pull of water, thinking of Missy's texts about _living_ and all that. She was on vacation. She was safer now than she had been. She wiped her hands on a napkin, clearing her throat. "So now what?"

"What?" Jon blurted out, almost dropping the plate. He coughed, covering his awkwardness. She noticed his hands were shaking slightly. "Um, well..."

Before he answered, the lights flickered, plunging them into darkness a moment and then returning. "What was that?" she demanded, climbing off the stool.

"Generator must be..." The lights flickered again. Jon looked out the window above the sink, wincing visibly. "Wind's picking up."

"What is _happening_ in this fucking province?"

Jon stowed the dishes in the dishwasher and began pulling down bowls and opening cabinets. He pointed to them. "Start filling those with water. There's some buckets in the laundry room too. Go fill the tubs with water." He left her with her directive, his voice hard and ordering. She instantly imagined him in a military uniform shouting the same, knowing that anyone would comply. It suited him.

With her orders, she began to do as told, the cats huddled on the counter together and Ghost following her from room to room. Jon had disappeared but his coat and boots were gone from the front hall. Dany found there were three full bathrooms, but only two had tubs. She filled up the one and then went into Jon's bathroom, steeling herself, wondering if now she'd find out just how horrible a person he was. Maybe there was toothpaste all over the counter or shaving cream or maybe he had a dead body in there.

 _Nope_. She entered the bathroom, discovering there was a sunken tub with whirlpool jets in a huge bay window, another adjacent room containing a walk-in stone shower. She turned the faucet, letting the tub fill and while she waited, scanned the space. It was as orderly and neat as the rest of the house, toothbrush in a holder, a razor on a little dish in the shower. Shower Gel, shampoo, both cheap brands of course. She nibbled her bottom lip and closed her eyes. "Don't do it," she ordered herself.

Do it, the little devil chanted. Don't, the angel cried.

Dany exhaled and with Ghost eyeing her suspiciously, she pulled open the medicine cabinet. She stared at it. Couple bottles of aspirin and...." She picked up one of the prescription bottles— there were a lot— studying the label. "Vicodin," she whispered. There was also a muscle relaxer, a sleep aid, an anti-nausea medication, and...she turned another, running her tongue over her teeth. She recognized the name instantly, because she had taken it once.

An anti-anxiety, but one she knew that was prescribed not necessarily for anxiety itself, but night terrors. She got them as a child.

"Night terrors," she whispered, putting it back, flushing at seeing such a private thing. She closed the cabinet, instantly regretful. As she closed the cabinet, she caught sight of the drawer slightly ajar and pulled it open. There wasn’t much in there. Qtips, cotton balls, and...a box of condoms. That were opened, one missing. She frowned and pushed beyond, tugging out one and shoving it into her pocket before she changed her mind and became sane again.

 _Couldn't hurt_.

She stowed the box away, finished her assignment, and went back downstairs, Ghost shaking his head, no doubt ashamed of her behavior. "I know," she muttered, flushing briefly. "I'm kind of ashamed too."

The lights flickered a few more times. She began opening and closing drawers, taking out what she found. Candles, a box of matches, and in the laundry room she located a couple of electric lanterns, batteries fulling charged. He was definitely more prepared than she was. She swallowed hard, going into the living room, noting that the firewood was stacked high beside the fireplace, and on the deck, there was a tarp covered pile, which had to be more.

Unlike her house, there were supplies, so she wasn't as concerned if they lost power. There was firewood and a working fireplace. Water now filled the house, and she suspected the pipes and things were better than hers. She sank onto the couch, pulling a blanket around her again and huddling in the corner, nervously eyeing the lamps. Ghost came up to sit next to her, his head resting on her knee, comforting. She scratched his head, looking around, hoping Jon was alright, wherever he'd gone.

She picked up a book, opened it to her spot, and paused. "I can't read," she blurted, dropping it and hurrying to the windows, trying to find Jon. "This is insane!"

Just when she decided to get a coat and boots on, to go searching for him, see if she could help, the lights flickered again and then went out completely. The heating unit, which had been running, cut off and the house plunged into silence. It was eerie, only the wind whipping against the windows, the fire crackling away, no ambient noise from the fridge compressor or the water filter.

She went to the back door, stepping into a mudroom, and made to push it open, to just check on Jon, when it flung open, snow blowing across her feet and the freezing temperatures chilling her immediately. "Jon!" she exclaimed. "Fuck! What happened?"

"Generator blew," he cursed, shaking off his beanie and unzipping his coat one-handed. The other he dropped some tools onto the floor, the metal case banging on the hardwood. He cursed some more under his breath, cold wafting off him in waves, shedding away the layers, which included black insulated coveralls. She oddly found him hotter, the way he was clearly....she didn't know what.

She didn't have a thing for "macho" men, but seeing him dressed like a working, mechanic or.... _damn_ , she thought, closing her eyes ,focusing. She reached for his hand, pulling him into the kitchen. "You're freezing!"

"Yeah, temps dropped, the generator froze up. I don't know what the fuck was going on with it." He pulled his phone out of his pocket, talking while he texted. "Arya says that it was fine when she was last here, but there's definitely something messed up with it. Fuck, no service."

"What?"

No power, no water, no heat, but no cell service? Why did that bother her more? Dany ran to her bag, taking out her phone. Yup, no service. Jon peered out again, shaking his head, his dark brows furrowed to a point. "It's getting worse. No power now...." He trailed off, turning and gazing over at her. "Guess we'll have to make do."

"Get cozy," she said.

He blinked, fumbling. "Wha...what?"

She shrugged, wondering why he seemed so strange now. He was flirting with her earlier, wasn't he? She ran her tongue over her teeth again and tried to smile, shrugging and holding her palms up. "Guess we're getting a little cozy together now. Come on, take those clothes off...." Her eyes widened, along with his. She coughed and he fumbled a little in place, unbuckling the strap on the coveralls. "Um, that is...take the wet clothes and..." She sighed. "Let's just sit down."

Not waiting for his response, Dany hurried over to the living room and sat back down on the couch. She was acutely aware, how silent the rest of the house was, how alone they now were. It even seemed colder. She shivered under her hoodie, tugging the blanket tighter around her, and after about twenty minutes or so, looked up when Jon came into the room. He had shaken the snow off, a bit like a wolf, and changed out of his jeans and sweater into a black cotton Henley and loose black sweats.

He wandered to the fire, stoking it and crouching to toss in a few more logs. As he did, her eyes landed on his ass, which was _definitely_ the best she had ever seen. The sweatpants hung low on his narrow hips and it was a sin that they looked as good as they did, shaping nicely. She gaped, wondering what one did to get muscles like his. They were not overdone at all. Not like her ex, who looked like he was constantly busting out of shirts. Drogo had never known when to stop.

His namesake, Drogon, poked his head at Jon's knee. Jon glanced down at him, idly touching his head and returned to the fire. She was stunned; Drogon _hated_ everyone but her. His affection for Jon was noteworthy, downright historic. "Um," she began, her throat cracking. She leaned forward and picked up her cold tea mug, sipping it and shuddering, the brew bitter from having sat around for so long. "So guess we really are stuck up here."

"Guess so."

He was quieter than he'd been, coming up to his feet. She noticed now after the movement, he was limping incredibly slightly and rubbed at his upper chest, over his heart. She frowned, concerned. "Are you alright? Did you twist your ankle?"

"Oh...uh, no...knee...knee injury." Except he was still rubbing at his chest, his face twitching in grimace.

Dany didn't press but kept her eyes on him as he lowered himself into one of the overstuffed chairs. He propped his chin on his hand, gazing idly into the fire, his feet on the coffee table again. She stood, restless, wandering into the kitchen. They couldn't start wasting food now, who knew when this would stop, but she had to do something with her hands.

Her eyes landed on the rack of wine.

_Huh._

She strode towards it and tugged out a bottle, studying the label. It was a decent vintage of Dornish red, from Starfall. "Hey," she called out. "Fancy a drink?"

"It's barely two in the afternoon."

Dany collected two glasses from the shelf and rummaged for a bottle opener, carrying the items into the living room and setting them on the coffee table. she smirked, holding up the bottle and wiggled it, meeting his curious look. "It's not like we have anything else to do."

Jon smiled. "Alright."

"Thing is," she said, trying to push Missandei's advice out of her head. Except she could still hear it, screaming at her to just _live_. She popped the cork, tilting the bottle over one of the full-bodied glasses. "Let's make it a little interesting. We can play a game."

"There might be some board games in the closet or cards."

"Not that kind of game." Although Twister might be fun with him. She handed him the glass and held hers up to her lips, smirking. "Ever play "I Never"?"

Jon frowned. "No."

Dany took a long pull of her glass. She gasped, the wine spicy and warm on her throat, belly heating as it landed. She grinned. "Perfect!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up kids, we are headed to Smutsville next.


	2. warm front

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany get to know one another; the heat wave hits the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason I couldn't seem to end this fic, I just liked these characters so much, I don't know why, lol. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

Jon Snow was an incredibly awkward, if not totally oblivious individual.

The storm raged outside, the cold bringing them closer to the fire and resulting in more blankets and pillows ending up on the space around the hearth, along with some other random cold weather accoutrements. In a fit of freezing, Dany had rummaged in a trunk in the front hall, finding an old-fashioned fur cloak, which she'd throw around her shoulders and Jon had put on fingerless gloves and after one bottle of wine—each—they agreed he needed to also wear a pink beanie that had sparkles saying 'PRINCESS' on it. He had no idea where it came from, just that his cousin would _never_ have worn it.

It didn't matter though, the more they drank, the sillier they got, he did not seem to _take a fucking hint._ Dany was having second thoughts about this seduction, since maybe he actually _wasn't_ flirting with her earlier and that was just how he was? She had no idea any longer. Except they were also putting on _more_ clothes which didn't seem to be the point she had in mind.

She was getting to know him though. This morning she barely knew he existed, now she knew that he was an only child but raised with his five cousins—three boys and two girls—whom he referred to as his siblings. He interchangeably used 'uncle' and 'dad' to explain his relationship with the only male role model in his life, who happened to be someone important although he refused to say who, even after a bottle of wine.

Plus, he was a very grumpy Capricorn— she had to explain Zodiac signs to him—had never been to Lannister Land in Lannisport, never been to Essos, had not been married—"I got close", he said darkly when that one came up, but did not elaborate—also he never had been caught skipping school or gotten detention.

"Goodie goodie," she accused, sipping her glass, after confessing she had skipped school _once_ because it was physical fitness day and she hated having to run in front of other people.

Jon smiled innocently. "Well, you asked the question in such a way that I never did it."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to piece that together in her hazy mind. "Wait...what?"

"I never got caught skipping school." He waggled his brows and tongue. "You didn't say just skipped school."

"Augh! Cheater!"

"Aren't you the lawyer, shouldn't you know these things?"

She threw a pillow at him, giggling and falling sideways, the cloak slipping off her shoulder. She had on two pairs of socks, her feet sweating in the damn things. It was _so cold_. He moved closer to her, pushing a pillow under his side and leaning on it, still holding his bottle of wine—she'd maintained using her glass—while he pondered his question. He pointed at her with the neck, blinking owlishly. "I never....um....went to college."

She rolled her eyes. "That's an easy one!" She sipped and thought hard, wondering where they hadn't gone. He still didn't seem to get it. She cleared her throat, lifting her brows, smirking. "I never...had sex in a public place."

He squinted and then, sheepishly, lifted the bottle to his lips. She screeched, beating her feet in the air and laughing. "No way!"

"It was a cave, in a public park beyond the Wall, does that count?"

"Could anyone walk in and see you?"

"Aye."

"Then it counts." She laughed hysterically, unable to believe it. He was laughing now, no longer as embarrassed. She sat up quickly, head swimming. "Alright, your turn."

He blinked hard again, focusing on her and dragging his tongue over his bottom lip, thinking. The action made certain parts of her anatomy begin to stand at attention and she pushed a pillow hard against her chest to quell the rising desire. He had no idea how attractive he was. It was ridiculous. "I never..." He snorted, his mouth going to the wine bottle opening, murmuring. "I never was engaged."

She growled, taking a drink. At his questioning look, she explained. "I was almost married twice. Both times, just...didn't work out." She didn't want to bring up Drogo or Daario, especially now that they were getting close to things. She pulled at the hoodie, pointing to Westeros Army, smirking. "I never served in the military."

Jon drank, making a face and saying nothing. She arched a brow, silently demanding more information. It was the point of the game, after all. His eyes downcast, he picked anxiously at the label on the wine bottle, voice soft. "I joined up the day after my 18th birthday, was in the Night's Watch...I left."

Not wanting to pry, but her lips and mind loosened from alcohol, she whispered, "Why did you leave?"

"Got hurt."

"I'm sorry." She thought of the Wall. That's where he said he'd been. It had its nice parts, where currently Missandei and Grey were skiing, resorts and hot springs and tourist areas. There was also the...not nice parts. The border crossings that were still quite dangerous, people trying to get into the lawless lands beyond, those living in the harsh conditions there trying to get to Westeros. The Free Folk, as they were called, were treated poorly. She hadn't worked on any of those cases, but she'd read about them. She cleared her throat and inched closer, moving to bump her arm against his, both of them lying opposite each other now. "Was it bad?"

"Bad enough to get me a medical discharge." He sighed, blinking his glassy, wine-drunk eyes, and rubbed at the corners with his index finger and thumb. He shuddered, coughing and forcing a tight smile. "Nevermind. Your turn."

"My turn." She forced a smile of her own, shrugging. "What do you got for me?"

"I never..." He laughed, rolling onto his back, pointing to her. "Made the first move."

"First move for what?"

"For anything."

"Seriously?" She sat up on her elbow, unable to believe that. He smirked, shrugging. Except...it worked for him. He hadn't made a move on her yet. He was oblivious. She'd asked him some pointed questions, trying to elicit responses that might push them together, but he hadn't taken the hint. _The most oblivious man._ She drank, rolling her eyes. "Gods Jon, I would have thought a military man like you would have made the first move."

"Both my exes made the move with me."

"Both?"

He moved back to his stomach, sipping the wine bottle even though it wasn't his turn to drink. "I wasn't what you call...smooth?"

"Clearly." She bit the tip of her tongue, wondering if this was her chance, but then he sat up, distracted by a falling log in the fire, leaning to check on it and make sure it didn't start smoking. She sniffed, the acrid burning sticking in her nose. "I never smoked a cigarette."

He drank. "I thought it was my turn?"

"You smoke?"

"Used to, but I vape when I feel like I need to." He dropped the bottle onto the table, getting up and stumbling to the kitchen. "Fuck! It's freezing!"

"What are you doing?" she whined.

He returned, holding the whiskey. "I think it's time we start on this."

"Ooooh."

Tossing back a swallow of the whiskey, he passed the bottle to her. "Is it my turn?"

"I think so."

"I never met my real dad."

That was dark. She crawled over, sitting up against the hearth, her back to the fire, and watched the shadows play on his face. He was staring into the flames, the glow highlighting his high cheekbones, darkening his beard, and giving his gray eyes a glow reminding her of fairytales, of magic. She swigged the whiskey, gasping at the burning into her belly. It was cold at first, before it warmed her, tingling and setting her nerves on end. "I wish I hadn't met my dad," she murmured. He died when she was young. She sighed. "Guess we have something in common Jon Snow. We were both raised with other relatives as our fathers."

"Your brother?"

"Yeah, Rhaegar was more of a dad to me than my biological one." Drawing her knees to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, handing him the whiskey bottle. "My mom died when I was born."

"Mine died when I was ten."

"But she instilled in you a sense of chivalry," she said, quiet, remembering what he'd said about his mother killing him if he left her to freeze to death. She smiled wide. "That's nice."

He grinned, loopy. "She was something. She was a horse trainer."

"That's nice."

"Aye. Loved history and stories and stuff." He sighed, closing his eyes, a serene smile on his lips. "Your turn."

They were diving between simple questions, sexy personal ones, and downright dark emotional ones. She thought about asking him something to get him to make a move, maybe something about strip poker or skinny-dipping or something, but then she thought of the tattoo on his arm, the one she'd only seen the edge of. She wanted to see more of it, quiet. "I never got a tattoo."

He drank and then without prompting, sat up and peeled off the hoodie he wore and then his Henley. The action startled her, not expecting him to go that far, and her mouth dropped, watching his muscles ripple, revealing a flat, washboard stomach, pearly pale skin and a set of impressive arms. To her curiosity, he kept the hoodie in front of him, so she couldn't see his whole chest and stomach—weird, like he was shielding himself—his arm coming around to cross in front of him so he could point to the tattoo inked on his upper right arm and along to his shoulder.

"Got it in the army," he explained, pointing. "That's Ghost there....a weirwood tree..."

Well now she didn't need to ask about never being in the military. She inched closer, so she could see the detailed design, the rendition of Ghost fairly accurate, except this dog instead of lolling his tongue in a sweet dopey manner, was snarling, eyes bright red and feral, more wolflike. The wolf merged into a white tree with a red face and leaves, before the leaves turned into black crows over his shoulder, and she could see the hilt of what looked like a sword, before his shirt covered the rest. His collarbone was left untouched, and she itched to kiss it, to follow the thin blue vein that curved under it up his neck, to feel his pulse, to see if it was racing, just like hers.

"What's that mean?" she wondered, reaching to touch the hilt of the sword, seeing how it looked broken. She didn't think, lightly brushing her fingertip over his skin, her lips parting in a soft gasp at how warm he was, his skin soft, and he shivered under her. She lifted her gaze to his, staring straight into depthless black pools, the gray disappeared to an almost invisible ring around his pupils.

His breath hitched, ragged, whispering. "It's a broken sword."

"It's beautiful work."

"Aye."

She dragged her finger down the outline of the sword, over to the crow and to the tree, to the wolves, and paused, fingertips curling lightly around his bicep, where the leaves and branches curled. The color was vibrant, red pulsing crimson in the firelight and the weirwood trunk white, standing out against his already pale skin. "Don't white tattoos hurt more?" she whispered, tracing the wolf's eyes.

"Aye," he barely whispered.

They hardly breathed, both already invading the other's space, heat rising around them. The fire was enough to have her dragonblood racing, steaming through her body and she wanted desperately to remove the hoodie she wore, their cocoon of blankets and pillows enough to keep the freezing temperatures at bay. She met his gaze, not blinking, and her fingers began to pull at the fabric he kept in front of his chest, slowly pushing at it, and as she did, she revealed what he'd been hiding from her.

Terrible scars traced down his skin, marring the marble sculpture he made. They were not fresh, but had not faded to pale pink yet, indicating they were still fresh. She gasped, not expecting it, and her hands reached out, touching his shoulders, nudging him back so she could inspect, forgetting their game, forgetting they were even strangers. He was hardly a stranger to her now, she thought, her eyes widening as she took in the seven lines curving around his belly and one peeking out from the waistband of his sweats.

She gulped, her hands splayed across his chest, and he quivered reflexively, his abdomen clenching. Her eyes darted towards the fine line of dark hair that started beneath his navel and tracked towards the sweatpants’ elastic band, which was dangerously low on his hips. The edges of his muscles cut into a ‘v’ shape and disappeared into the sweats, teasing what lay underneath the soft cotton fabric. All she wanted to know was if the slight bulge was as enticing as the rest of the body. If she was not mistaken, it was growing larger and her fingers twitched, desperate to reach for it.

Instead, she swallowed hard, focusing on his face again and then on the marks. "Who did this to you?" she wondered, for these were not wounds that came from an accident. They were deliberate, they made her think of some of the wounds she'd seen on victims of mass attacks in Ghiscar or the Disputed Lands between Myr and Tyrosh.

"It's a long story."

They had nothing but time, she thought, lifting her eyelids enough to peer through her lashes at him, his hand lifting to cup her elbow, stilling her beside him. She leaned over, quiet. "I don't believe we are going anywhere anytime soon, Jon."

He swallowed hard, throat bobbing, and his gaze locked on hers. He waited a moment and whispered. "I never slept with someone I just met."

The bottle was right beside them, but she did not move to take it. She smiled, his eyebrows lifting, understanding. _Neither have I_ , she might as well have said. She didn't drink or move towards it but pressed forward towards him at the same time he made his move towards her, hands lifting to cup her face, his mouth descending over hers at the same moment she reached his. The kiss was gentle, tentative at first, both of them unsure, she figured. She worried he might push her back, decide that it wasn’t worth it.

The awkwardness if they decided to pull away though, she figured, opening her mouth under his. _Might as well_ , she thought, spurred forwards by the alcohol and the desire to see if he was as warm as he appeared. She eagerly swept her tongue against his, deepening the kiss further. He tasted like the whiskey, the faintest bit of the rich wine, and vaguely she thought she tasted cigarette ashes. She needed more of him, she thought, desperate now, a primal urge to touch him, to feel the heat seeping off his pale skin.

She pushed against him first, silently encouraging him, assuring him it was alright. His hands lifted, the clothing and blanket he’d been holding up falling away completely now, and he splayed his palms over her back, tugging her easily into his lap. She moaned softly, her skin tingling. She kissed him even harder, wondering about the wolf within him, sensing it under the surface, growling low, and she rubbed against him, her breasts straining under the layers of clothing. His hands moved, running down her spine, pushing under the hoodie and t-shirt and tank and at the first touch of his rough palms to her back, she jumped, breaking away and gasping.

His eyes were blown black, his lips swollen from the increasing intensity of the kiss, and his brow furrowed, mouth opening to speak, but she silenced him, desperate, her tongue sweeping into his mouth, groaning, needy. She broke the kiss long enough to assist him in removing the hoodie and then the t-shirt, and when he came upon her tank top, he chuckled, long and low. “I was trying to stay warm,” she huffed.

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“But you want to.”

She shook her head, her palms touching his cheeks, rising over him, her thighs falling to either side of his hips. He gripped her ass, tugging her flush to him, and she hissed at the forcefulness in his movements. “Please,” she groaned. She picked up his hands, lifting them to her breasts, his thumbs flicking over her nipples, which had formed hard points, the tank top doing nothing to hide how much she wanted him.

The chill in the room had dissipated, the fire consuming them, the kissing sloppy as they struggled against each other. She touched his chest, marveling at the hard planes, the chiseled edges, and when she came to his scars, she dragged her fingertips gently over them. He shivered under her, but not from cold. He tugged off the tank top, throwing it aside. He pulled back briefly, staring at her, his dark gaze sweeping from her belly up to her breasts and then to her eyes. She lifted her brow, silently wondering, and he ran his fingers up and down her sides, before filling his palms with her breasts, squeezing gently. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, rolling her nipples in his fingers, his mouth hovering over hers.

Her cheeks flushed, slightly embarrassed at the attention. No one had ever said that to her, not the way he just did. She reached for him, framing his face in her palms. “I think you are too,” she whispered, wiggling against him. He groaned, kissing her deeper, hands falling from her breasts down to her hips, angling her backwards, towards the blankets piled under them. He kicked a pillow aside, lightly squeezing at her arse and she lifted her hips, encouraging him to help pull down the flannel pants, which were already coming unrolled at the waist, falling down over her hips.

Letting go of him long enough to fall backwards onto her elbows, giggling when he tugged at the pants, the fabric catching at her knees. He yanked at her wool socks, throwing them to join the clothing piling up near them. In the moment, desperate to shed her clothing so she could be close to him, to touch him and have him touch her, she forgot her choice in underwear. Until he glanced down, eyebrows lifting. “Interesting choice,” he said, hooking his finger around the hem.

“What?” She glanced down, yelping, mortified. She swatted at his hand, closing her eyes and dropping her head back to the pillow under her, groaning. “Fuck! Of all the…”

“They’re cute. They’re purple.” He hooked his other index finger into the other side of the panties, curling both under the cotton and out above her thighs, inching the panties lower and lower over her hips. He dropped his face over hers, murmuring against her lips. She smiled, in spite of herself, her mortification fading. “They’re…utilitarian.”

“They’re warm!” she protested, pushing his shoulder, half-heartedly annoyed. The other half wanted him to take them off so she could finally be naked underneath him. He was also wearing too many clothes, his joggers still on. She had to get them off; she could see the outline of his erection under the thin cotton, and she wanted to feel him, the way he was feeling her.

“Whatever they are, I’m taking them off.”

 _Oh thank fuck_ , she thought, arching her back, her hips lifting off the floor, assisting him in removing the panties, and finally she was naked under him. She reached for his pants, tugging on the drawstring, and he stood quickly, kicking them off. She licked her lips, his cock now free of the pants and it was as impressive as she imagined, long and hard, flushed and ready. She reached for him, but he was too quick, dropping down over her once more.

He crawled over her, caging her into the soft mattress created from their blankets and pillows, a smile pulling on her lips at the dark gleam in his eyes, the curve of his smile in the corners, teasing, but intent on his target. She parted her lips before he kissed her, allowing him to sweep his tongue along the corners of her mouth, his hands idly moving over her tits, thumbs stroking over her nipples, which had pebbled into tight points, aided partly by the cold and partly from his gentle touch. He broke the kiss, when she wanted to pull him closer, and she moaned her disapproval, only for it to catch in her throat, his lips finding her breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth, tonguing it before he tracked over to the other.

She gasped, arching, his hands and lips alternating between her breasts. “Jon,” she moaned, dropping her fingers into his curls, tangling within them, holding his mouth against one breast, his lips worrying first one nipple and then the other. She had never come from a man just teasing her breasts, but there was a first time for everything, and Jon Snow was about ready to take that title. He kept one hand busy with her tit, the other skimming across her belly, tracing around her navel. She quivered under him, her muscles aflame, no longer feeling any chill from the air around them. They had formed a cocoon together, heat rising and blanketing them.

Jon tore away from her breast, his mouth warm and wet, kissing down her belly and tongue darting to flick at the soft skin just under her navel and above her cunt. She arched, needing him, desperate, moaning his name, calling it out in desperation when he feathered his fingers over her cunt; she was so glad she had thought to wax before the vacation, even if she had no intention of getting laid. Thank gods for her subconscious thoughts.

He nudged his shoulders under her knees and she got the hint, lifting them slightly so he could slip his arms under her thighs, angling her hips towards his mouth. He shot her a dark look, feral and wolfish, his smile widening. She panted, the position affording him a full look at her cunt, spread open and ready for him, folds swollen and slick. He murmured into her knee, idly kissing up the soft skin of her thigh. “I thought about doing this earlier.”

“Yeah?” she gasped, tossing her head back onto the pillow. She moaned, wiggling under him when he blew a warm stream of breath over her cunt. She cried out, unable to stop, her arm thrown over her face. “Why didn’t you?”

“Trying to be neighborly.”

“Oh fuck Jon!” He had pressed a single kiss just above her clit, the shock from the coolness around them and his warm mouth enough to almost make her come. She shot her hand to his hair again, holding him between her thighs, and he took the hint this time, opening his mouth wide and licking a long, slow swipe up her slit. She almost tore his hair straight out, her other hand joining, hips swiveling up. “Fuck, yes!” She had no idea how long it had been, but she _needed_ this.

He began to lick, sliding his tongue in and out of her cunt, tasting her and savoring, fucking her with his tongue. He slipped his fingers in after a moment, his tongue dancing around up to her clit. It was _incredible_. Dany also had never really come from a guy just going down on her; she usually had to help him along with her own strokes, but _fucking seven hells_ Jon was a master. She should have known. He had a mouth on him, his quick banter and wit; of course it extended to the bedroom.

Or rather, the living room, as the case may be.

He had moved on to worrying her clit, sucking it between his lips, flicking his tongue around it and pumping his fingers in and out of her cunt, which she squeezed around him, her body beginning to tremble, the pleasure inside rising, the wave beginning to crest, and he didn’t stop, crooking one of his fingers inside, finding the spot just above her cunt, rubbing at it and then she saw nothing but stars and darkness, unable to stop her body from seizing up against him, needing more. He didn’t stop, kudos to him, continuing to slip his fingers along her cunt and circle her clit, careful not to touch it directly as she was coming down now and it was super sensitive.

And then she was coming again, to her shock, burying her face in the blanket beside her, pressing his face harder into her cunt, this time not as intense, but no less sweet. “Fuck,” she gasped, eyes shut, her hips twitching up and cunt still pulsing around his tongue, which was slowly flicking against her. She opened one eye, peering at him, her voice raspy and choking. “Well…I think it’s your turn.”

He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, his beard glimmering with her arousal, and she swore he might have flushed. He had gone down and eaten her so well and now he was _blushing_ about the idea of her doing it to him? Dany wanted to kiss him forever and never let him go. She was languid, loose, and fumbling as she reached for him, pressing her mouth against his; she groaned, tasting herself on his tongue, and he kissed her, reaching his hand to thread through her hair, holding her against him.

When they broke for breath, she had risen up far enough to press him towards the pillows now, turning so she was over him, straddling his hips, pressing her palms against his flat abdomen. In the dark shadows from the fire, she traced a finger over his scars, which seemed so much more horrible in this light. She chewed her already swollen bottom lip, not wanting to hurt him. “It’s fine,” he murmured, one of his hands holding her hip, the other reaching up to run his thumb over her bottom lip, carefully removing it from under her teeth. He smiled softly. “You can’t hurt me.”

 _But I barely know you_.

The thought jumped into her mind and she pushed it away quickly. She reached down between them and wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking him slowly, from root to tip. He groaned, his eyes slamming shut, turning towards the blanket underneath him. “Fuck,” he mumbled. His fingertips burned into her hips and after a moment of stroking him, enjoying the heat in her hand, she slipped further down his body and he let go, eyes opening, momentarily confused, until she made eye contact and just when his mouth fell open, she closed hers around him, engulfing him completely between her lips.

He was marvelous, she thought, snaking her tongue around him, stretching her mouth to accommodate his girth; he had nothing to be ashamed of, she thought, enjoying the sounds of his mumbled curses and pleasurable sighs as she teased him, her nails scraping lightly over his upper thigh and then to his balls, rolling them gently in her hand, which he enjoyed, judging from the high-pitched whine he let out. She discovered what he liked, the pressure and the movements of her hands and lips, and when he was tugging at her shoulders, she knew he was close.

She let go of him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and rose up over him. He frowned and was about to say something, but she remembered her pants and reached over, fumbling in the pocket and took out the condom, flicking the foil package in front of him. “Oh thank gods,” he laughed, reaching for it. He tore it open, and she took the condom, slipping it down over him, rolling it over him expertly.

In one quick move, he was over her and she was pressed back into the blankets, her knees rising and his cock brushing up against her entrance. She gasped, lifting her hips up to meet him. Jon grabbed her hips and she reached down to notch him against her entrance, and in one quick push of his hips, he was sliding into her, slow and luxurious, dragging against her walls, and Dany had _never_ felt so good.

Or so full, she thought, head tossing back on the pillow, eyes fluttering shut. “Oh,” she moaned, grabbing his biceps, nails digging in to hold on as he stilled over her, once he was fully embedded. It had been a bit of time and he was careful, allowing her body to stretch and adjust to him before he slid slowly back, just an inch or so and then back in, pressing her down with each push. She sucked in a breath, eyes tightly shut, her legs lifting to wrap around his hips, pulling him closer to her body. His skin was so hot on hers, she was overwhelmed, rocking up into him as he pressed down into her.

Each move was steady and purposeful, the pace quickening as it became easier for him, her body accepting. She held on around him, his face pushed into her neck, sucking at her pulse point, one of his hands holding up her leg around his hip, the other slipping between them to thumb her clit. She moaned his name, beginning to grind up into him as the climax neared, and soon she was squeezing around him, that glorious wave smacking her down again, over and over, shuddering around him. He didn’t stop, pulling from her neck and finding her lips with his, kissing hard, groaning with each thrust.

“Dany,” he gasped. “Fuck.”

“Yes,” she repeated, encouraging him with each swivel of her hips. “Yes Jon, fuck that feels so good.”

“You feel so good,” he mumbled. “So good.”

She nodded, in a daze, as he fucked her harder, his thrusts growing increasingly erratic as he neared his release. She could barely handle it, the way he fit in her, the bounce of her breasts against his chest. Sweat beaded at her hairline and she dragged her fingers over his spine, gripping his hips tight, meeting him thrust for thrust. He was chasing it now, so close, and soon he was shoving in as deep as he could and she was taking him completely, his grunts and groans mingling with hers, until he reached the peak and was falling over the edge, his body seizing up over hers, cock pulsing and twitching inside of her as he came.

They lay together, slick with sweat, clutching each other, for a few moments. She turned her face towards his and captured his lips with hers, before he had a chance to say anything. The kiss was deep, sweet, and she held his face in her hands, not wanting him to separate from her just yet. He felt so good against her. It was nice, to have someone like this, someone so close to her.

He kissed her again, regretfully, and pulled out of her, careful of the condom, and got up, disappearing around the corner and into the bathroom. A moment later, he returned and shivered, pulling one of the blankets up and burying under it, dragging her towards him. She sighed, eyes shutting, layers of blankets over them and his body wrapping around her again. He trapped her legs between his, and she clutched him tight, her ear to his chest, listening intently to his steady heartbeat.

“I’m warm,” she mumbled, smiling.

He chuckled, kissing the top of her head. “Aye, me too.”

“Hmm….it feels good.”

“It does.”

She lifted her face up to his, smiling. “I don’t know about you, but…I could take a nap and then…try to keep warm again.”

After a few seconds, Jon buried his face into her neck, his fingers teasingly dancing up her ribcage. He chuckled warmly into her shoulder, kissing gently. “Aye, me too.”

Dany very much looked forward to it.

* * *

"Mmmm...."

Dany was very, very warm. She felt the tip of her nose with her finger, noting that it was freezing, so she turned, her front chilled and pushed into the heater nestled behind her, burrowing deep against a smooth, warm stretch of skin, idly pressing a kiss to wherever her mouth ended up. She sighed, pleased at the comforting warmth, her toes curling underneath the pile of blankets tangled around her. The heat underneath shifted, sliding a foot over her calf, and she murmured, her feet drawing up and entwining her legs through his. It was lovely, the liquid heat making its way through her, all bundled and safe and....

 _Nooooo...._ , her brain screamed, when that heat moved away from her, slipping carefully out and away, leaving her with a dark void, plunging her into frozen abyss. "No," she mumbled, eyes peeling open and her hand outstretched, grasping for him. She groaned. "Don't go, no! Soft. Warm."

"Need to check the fire," he rumbled into her ear, kissing her temple and lightly stroking her upper arm, which had pulled free of the blankets when he moved. He kissed her apologetically. "Be right back."

She sniffed, eyes remaining open, taking in that it was definitely late, the sky black outside. The only light came from the fireplace, which had died away to an orange glow. She was grateful he thought to check, they might have let it go out if he hadn't had the willpower to get up. At least he had it, she thought, cuddling the pillow he'd been using, inhaling his scent and closing her eyes in pleasure.

It was definitely cold, the house without heat for hours now, only the area around the fireplace providing any sense of warmth. She lifted her head, spying Ghost, who had thankfully left them be during their, ah, _activities_. He was on his pillow, next to the couch, and she blinked, unable to believe what she was seeing. "What," she mumbled, drawing a blanket around her, shivering and standing, padding barefoot to collect her phone.

There was still no service, damnit, but at least she had a charge. She angled the camera and took a snap, pleased that in the firelight it still came out with the flash. The white ball that was Ghost, curled around three little colorful figures, one black, one orange, and one white-- but looking a bit gray beside his snowy fur. She grinned, pleased her cats were behaving themselves. Then again, they were also completely self-obsessed so of course they'd forgive Ghost for being a canine and cuddle to him to save their own skin.

She couldn't believe how cold it was, eyes landing on Jon, who was stoking the fire. He'd _stupidly_ put on his sweats, hiding her view and she pouted. "Why'd you put on clothes?"

"Don't want my dick to freeze right off."

"Oh no way, I would never let that happen," she teased.

He grinned over his shoulder, the fireplace poker in his hand as he pushed a few new logs he'd placed in the hearth aside, stoking them to catch. "I have no doubt you'd rescue that part of my anatomy first." He finished with the fire, satisfied that it would last a bit, and fell back into their pile beside her. She plucked up his hoodie, pulling it on, to his groaning protests. "Come on, don't do that to me."

"Well you covered up first and I'm freezing!"

He bounded under the blankets, reaching for her and tugging her down over him. She giggled, tumbling over his chest, rolling onto her back as he turned, caging her against the soft plush faux fur beneath them, his hand snaking beneath the bottom of the hoodie, which had fallen almost to her knees. "I can warm you up," he murmured against her throat, pecking kissing along the little purpling love bites already there.

"Hmm, I know you can." She was grateful for the heat of the fire, which washed over them in a wave, catching quickly with the addition of new wood, roaring up the chimney, the grate open to allow it out. Beside them, Ghost stretched and curled tighter around the three cats, who huddled closer to him. She grinned. "They're getting along."

"Hmm, Ghost is very accommodating."

"I know, it seems he and his owner have that in common," she whispered, turning her face so she could take his lips with hers, groaning at the feel of him against her, heart quickening. It was wonderful, lying here with him, savoring this. She wondered what time it was, but soon realized she didn't care. She searched for his lips with hers, brushing softly. They were swollen from their previous kisses, his as well, but she didn’t mind. She parted her lips and moaned softly, tasting herself still on his tongue, which slipped easily to slide along hers, like it was meant to be there.

They tangled together, mouths slanting easily against the other, her nose pressing to his, exhaling hard, blowing some of his hair back from his cheeks, as it felt forward when he leaned over her. She deepened the kiss further, tongue swiping at his palate, her fingers diving along the base of his neck, touching the warm, soft skin there. He tightened his grip on her, bundling her against him, and she did not breathe, unable to stop, wanting to stay in his arms forever. It was what paradise must feel like, she thought, his body molding to hers perfectly.

They kissed as long as they could and she strained against him, whimpering quietly against him, not wanting to separate. When she finally had to, gasping for breath, she pulled back. Her nose nuzzled his and she curled her fingers around knotted strands of his hair, lightly brushing the nape of his neck. "We could stay here a thousand years."

"Hmm, we'd be pretty old."

it was idyllic, hiding away from society, living off the grid. Now she understood, in a weird way, why people did that. They were the only ones here. They were free from anything and everyone, no obligations or responsibilities. No need to even _talk_ if they didn't want to. She hadn't wanted to take her vacation, now she had no desire to return to her real life. "It's funny," she whispered, meeting his gaze. His eyes were shining, black jewels in the glowing light. He leaned over to the side, so he was draped around her, his leg thrown over her hips and arm across her chest. He tugged at one of her silver curls, lazily wrapping it around his finger, silently encouraging her to explain. She dragged her fingers along the back of his neck, mimicking his movements with hers. "I didn't know you 24 hours ago and here I am already dreaming of never leaving this house because of you."

He smiled. "Aye?"

"Aye," she whispered, giggling. She had never felt such a connection with another person before. She wriggled her nose towards his. "Unless this was your plan all along. Seduce me to your house in the middle of a snowstorm. I bet you broke my pipes on purpose."

"Would you be mad if I did?"

"Not at all," she breathed, accepting the gentle kiss he dropped to her lips. She sighed again, hands coming up to brush over his chest, touching the ugly scar on his heart. She furrowed her brow. "I didn't even know you, but I could have lost you. I don’t like that."

"I'm here."

She chuckled. "Yeah, it's funny how things happen like that."

They didn't have to talk about the future. Who knew how long this was going to carry on, the storm and the lack of power. There would be a moment where they would need to evaluate, but right now she didn't want to think about it. Right now she was more at peace and relaxation than she'd been in most of her life, content to never leave his arms. Hiking in the mountains or snowed in with him? She couldn't believe that in a heartbeat she would say she would prefer to be snowed in with him.

Touching his chest again, she murmured. "You were hurt badly, is that why you came here?"

"Aye." He kept pulling at her hair with his left hand, his right coming up and skimming his index finger along her nose, her lips, her chin, and back around again, tracing her features. He never broke his gaze from her. Dany didn't want to put a word on what she saw looking back, but she suspected he felt the same as her. he sighed. "It's a long story, like I said."

"We're not going anywhere."

He nodded and told her, quietly, about how he was up at the Wall, he was leading a mission over the Wall. It went badly, the men did not trust him any longer, they no longer liked his leadership, what he was encouraging them to do. He scoffed, frustrated. "I was advocating for the Free Folk. They hated them. They let their biases and their racist views seep over and stain their oaths to the country. They decided that instead of following me, as they were ordered to do, as their oaths dictated..." He smiled wryly, his gray eyes now glinting dangerously. "They would just get rid of me."

She gasped, reaching for him, pressing closer, assuring herself he was still there. "What happened?"

"They cornered me. Got me out of sleep when we were taking a rest, claimed the contact that we were going to meet was there. When I came around, I saw that they had written 'traitor' on a tree. They stabbed me. Said they did it for the Night's Watch." He barked out, laughing. "If not for Ghost, I'd be dead."

"Ghost?" she exclaimed.

"Aye, he's not just a lazy slob here. He's a trained military dog. He was on the mission with us. They forgot about him. Forgot that he's committed to me and only me." He glanced over her shoulder, smiling warmly at the beast who was fast asleep with her kitties. "He dragged me away, he got help. The Free Folk contact we were meant to meet. They got me out there, gave me medical attention and were able to get me life-flighted. I crashed a few times on the table."

"Oh gods Jon."

"Took me ages to learn how to walk again."

"Your knee was also injured?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, that knee injury is from when I was a kid. I fell out of a tree playing with my cousin, dislocated it. It aches when it's cold, it's been fucking killing me last few days." He furrowed his brow, whispering. "No, I had to use a walker and crutches, the surgeries wiped me out, I was so weak I could barely stand. My heart kept giving out, I had no stamina. Doctors said some of it was psychological."

 _The night terrors_ , she remembered, the medication he had in the cabinet. She frowned, biting her bottom lip. She felt so guilty, having looked. "I did something," she blurted. She closed her eyes, not wanting to look at him when she admitted it. It would probably ruin everything. He cocked his head, waiting for her, curious. She cringed, closing her eyes and burying her face into her hands. “I’m so sorry, I did a stupid thing I…” She sighed, refusing to look at him. "I'm sorry, I snooped earlier. I saw the pills in your cabinet.” His eyebrows lifted, but he said nothing. She wrinkled her nose up, whispering. “I…you…you get night terrors, don't you?"

It would be totally alright with her if he turned her out into the cold or at the very least, got up and found a place in the house where he could be away from someone as rude as her. His eyes narrowed, but to her absolute surprise, instead of getting angry, he smiled. _What?_ , she wondered, and he chuckled, quiet. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He wasn’t unkind, only stated an observation. He leaned in a little closer. “It’s alright.”

She giggled nervously. “I’m sorry I…I swear I’m not like this, I just…” She tried to play it off. "I was just making sure you were _only_ a murderer."

He grinned and pushed is nose up to hers, murmuring. “Aye, you’re right. I do…I get terrors sometimes.” His eyes darkened, shutters closing over the bright like that had been there a moment before. “They help, but…usually they don’t.” He cleared his throat, forcing a smile, and the light returned to the gray. She was relieved, reaching for him again. “So you were snooping…”

“I prefer to call it investigating.”

“But it explains some things.”

“Like what?”

“Like where the condom in your pocket came from."

She froze. "Um...."

"Can I tell you something?" He twirled her hair around his finger, clearly not waiting for her to encourage him to continue, he would tell her anyway.

She flashed a grin. "You're telling me everything Jon."

He smiled sheepishly, ducking his head a little, clearly embarrassed like her. "When you were in the shower I...I took one and put it in my pocket too."

Now _that_ surprised her. "What?" she laughed. She swatted his chest. “No way!”

"Aye,” he admitted. “The box was in my bag, from..." He paused and she arched her brow, smirking, wondering if he was going to talk about a previous girlfriend. He flushed red, shaking his head. "Nevermind. Point is, they were unopened, and I just tossed them in the drawer and...well...I guess I was wondering if....I don't know."

Something he said during the game came back to her and she laughed, tossing her head back on the pillow, her arms going towards his neck, wrapping tighter against him. "Jon, you made the first move!"

"What? No I didn't!"

"Yes, you did! You came to my house. You encouraged me to stay with you. You were flirting with me and you didn't even know it!"

He was shocked, eyes wide. It was hilarious to her, how oblivious he truly happened to be. "I...I was?"

"Yes, you were!"

"Oh."

She was overcome, unable to stop her shaking shoulders or regain control over her giggles. The sheer adorableness of it all should not have been a selling point, it normally wasn't for her with a man, but with _this_ man? Gods, she had never been more attracted to another person in her life. His sheepish smile, the honest chivalry that came from true care not a desire to get a single lady alone in his house, then you add in the gentle fragility from his accident, the icy shell he tried to project— poorly, mind you— now this? The obliviousness of how he had been joking with her, flirting with her, leaving that silly little note, pretending to be a murderer over a pervert?

Dany wanted to write a book about it. How to Get a Girl the Jon Snow Way. Just pretend you have no idea what you're doing and be adorable. She dropped her forehead to the crease of his neck, sighing, unable to stop smiling. "To think I could have been frozen in my house with the cats eating my face," she mused. She lifted her eyes to meet his, grinning wide. "Now here I am with you."

He smirked. "One of the benefits of growing up in the North."

"Is there really anything?"

"Oh aye, I can withstand a winter storm and also get the girl." He frowned. "Apparently without even knowing it."

"Well you can safely say that you made the first move here. Even if you had no idea."

"I'm not sure if that's a good thing."

She giggled, her finger dragging circles around his cheek, scratching in his bristly beard. "I think it is."

They had not spoken about what happened next. In all likelihood the power wouldn't come back on for a couple days. The water was still working, but he worried they might have to boil it if they continued to take it from the tap and not the collected batches they had. There was the concept of no heating too, she thought. She burrowed closer to him, his body heat seeping into hers. He was very warm, like a wolf, she thought, closing her eyes and savoring the happy numbness her tired, worn body was experiencing.

He fiddled with her hair, skimming his fingertips up and down her spine, the fleece sweatshirt dragging against her skin. She would prefer them to be without, but owing to the need for heat, it was a necessary evil. For now, she guessed, feeling his body react beneath hers as she slid over him, draping herself like a pelt over his bare chest. "You are so warm," she murmured. "Must be your wolf blood."

"Hmm, you're warm too. Maybe you have dragon blood."

She giggled. "Yeah, I'm warm until I'm freezing to death."

"Hmm...." He mumbled, face in her neck, sighing. "I won't let that happen." He tightened his arms around her body. They were quiet, drifting in and out, the flames playing over their faces, and after a long moment, he whispered. "Will you stay here?"

The tentative, quiet way he asked showed his nerves. He was shy, she thought, lifting her face and dropping her chin to his pec, her hands folded over his collarbone. He tried to keep the nerves from his face, but she saw the flickering brows, the strained pull in his irises. She nodded; the relief clear with his slow exhale. he'd been holding his breath. "Aye," she murmured, putting on a fake Northern accent.

The wind whipped around the house, the cold trying to get in, to break the little cocoon of warmth and heat they’d created in front of the fire. She shook her head and rested it back down on his chest, his heartbeat under her ear, grateful to hear it, now knowing how she could have lost him before she met him.

"I’m not going anywhere."

* * *

The power remained out for another day and night, Jon's nerves showing when the firewood pile started to diminish faster and faster, each haul of logs into the house causing the line in between Jon's brows to furrow deeper and deeper, until she wondered if it would become a permanent ridge. She tapped at it, after one of these trips, frowning. "Do you always brood this much?"

"My cousin claims my face will freeze that way."

"You may have to worry about that more now than ever before."

"True." He hung up his parka, but even he shivered afterward, arms wrapping around himself, gazing out at the now clear skies, the storm finally having passed, but leaving behind a winter wonderland that belied the devastation hiding in the houses and around the pretty snowdrifts and picturesque views. The one she liked was a palm tree frozen, icicles hanging off the leaves, which of course she'd taken a picture of, before turning off her phone to conserve the battery. The charger pack she had was only for if the power couldn’t come back on in another day.

They were better off, Jon kept telling her, than the majority of the people around them. Even if it now had been two nights of no power and heat. At least they had the fireplace, he told her, and water and food.

And each other, she added silently, when he brought this up the morning after their second night together. They had been enjoying each other as much as they could. So long as the box of condoms kept out, she supposed, having escaped up to the bathroom to take the entire thing down to their setup in the living room. She felt consistently warm, her muscles loose and limber, each time they started chilling, he was right there to help her out, so kind of him.

When they weren't otherwise occupying their time screwing each other’s brains out, Jon kept talking about how they should go back to her rental house, to collect her things, since she was clearly staying with him now. "No," she kept telling him, pushing him down into their rat's nest in front of the fire. They had piled more blankets and pillows as the powerless days and nights wore on. "Not yet."

The cats were shivering each time they ran out from underneath Ghost, who had become a mother hen to them. He followed them around, ferrying them to their food, their litter box, and then ushering them back to the big pillow in front of the fireplace, where they scooted up to him like little nursing babies. She had taken so many photos of the cuteness, she worried her phone would die out not because she was trying to make contact with anyone, but because she was turning into an obsessive kitty mother.

"They're so cute!" she fawned, taking yet another picture, this one of Drogon's face sticking out from the white fluff, shooting her a death glare. She knew she would get paid back later, probably with a good dose of cat vomit right on her bedspread, but it would be worth it. She checked the phone once again, sighing as there was no service.

Jon had returned from the kitchen, discreetly popping the pills she knew he had to take for his pain. It hurt her, knowing that he still felt it, but she said nothing. They barely knew each other, she had to remind herself. He paused in front of the window behind the couch, sipping his water bottle. "It'd be nice if we were up North with this," he said, gazing wistfully outside at the blinding snow; the sun had come out, but with still freezing temperatures, nothing would melt. It was like a big weather trick, she thought. "The powder up near Flint Mountain would be great right now."

"You ski?"

"Board," he said, sheepishly. He removed his parka and botts, shivering. She pulled him down to their nest, poking a mug of coffee at him. He'd shown her how to make the coffee over the fireplace and they'd had a little campfire feast, making grilled cheese over the logs and melting chocolate-- her contribution from the few things she'd stocked up on-- over graham crackers, since they didn't have marshmallows for s'mores.

The idea of him snowboarding made her skin prickle, her insides warming. She licked her lips, leaning into him, murmuring. "That's pretty hot Jon Snow."

"Hmm, haven't gone in some time, not since..." He trailed off, the implication lingering. She finished for him. _Not since his injuries._ She distracted him from the dark thoughts, no doubt beginning to swirl, with a kiss, drawing him closer to her. He hummed against her mouth, his cool hands slipping beneath the hoodie she had on to warm against the small of her back. He sighed. "You're so warm."

"Hmm, not for long, you're freezing!"

He grinned against her lips, murmuring. "Well we'll have to continue sharing our body heat then, won't we?"

She faked a dramatic sigh, but her fingers belied her true feelings on the matter, already dancing along the exposed stretch of pale, cool skin between the bottom of his shirt and his joggers, slipping and sliding along the elastic waistband teasingly. She nuzzled him, murmuring. "I think that's an excellent idea Jon Snow."

As he leaned down to kiss her, his hand pushing farther under the hoodie, while she kicked her feet under one of the comforters to drag over them, there was a loud buzz, coupled with something that sounded like a pop, and then a heavy metallic bang. She yelped, wondering what fresh level of hte seven hells had just fallen over them, when she noticed the lights flickering in the kitchen, and then the steady thrum of the fridge compressor.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, laughing. "The power!"

Jon laughed, getting up to his feet, and going into the kitchen to inspect the appliances now returning to life, the digital green clock on the oven and the microwave flashing, the fridge purring away, and the banging from the laundry room-- her wash had apparently restarted, even if the water might not be working still. He tried the faucets, with no joy there, and went back to the parka and boots. He smiled apologetically. "I need to check the furnace, we don't want to die from carbon monoxide poisoning."

"Fuck no," she agreed, rubbing her arms briskly, the idea of soon being able to have a hot meal not cooked in the fireplace about to make her cry in relief. She wanted to help, but also thought if he was going to be fussing about with the supplies, she might as well venture to her house and check it out. She rubbed Ghost's head, the dog wandering up to them. She chuckled. "Where are the babies?"

Ghost turned his head, wagging his tail, and she caught sight of three fluffy tails and butts sticking out under the couch pillows. He lifted his head, accepting more pats, and Jon nodded to him. "Why don't you take him to your place to get your things? I'll help you bring them over, just let me check out the furnace, make sure the pipes are good."

It made her smile, how on the same wavelength they were. "Sure," she agreed. She clapped her hands. "Want to go in the snow?" Ghost jumped, wagging his tail and frantically turning in circles, racing towards the side door. She giggled, about to follow, until she realized a very important thing. She had almost no clothing conducive to trekking across the snow to her place. "Um..."

"Way ahead of you."

After a few minutes of Jon helping her into a pair of his sweatpants, layer of socks, a vest, hoodie, and then his extra jacket, she resembled a marshmallow puff, unable to flatten her arms down to her sides. "How can you walk in these things?" she complained, her feet encased in a small pair of boots that his cousin had left in the closet. They were thick-soled, a bit too snug on her, but they would have to do. She bounce din place. "I feel like I'm going to fall over."

He shrugged, wrapping a scarf around her and folded it at her neck, leaning in to peck a kiss to her pursed lips. "I don't think of it like that." His lips curved into a frown, his nose wrinkling, perturbed. She cocked her head, silently asking what the problem was. He leaned in, growling. "I don't like putting you in clothes."

She wiggled her eyebrows, reaching her hands-- now in thick mittens-- to pat his face. "You can take me out of them when I come back."

"I look forward to it."

A few minutes later, after a few kisses that almost got completely out of hand, she was huffing her way through the snow up the hill to her rental home, Ghost loping beside her, in his element. The parka's hood came down almost over her eyes, but she realized that was a good thing, because the sun was so bright, she could not tell where the ground was in reference to the sky. She also thought she was in decent shape, going to bi-weekly Pilates classes and running and hiking, but _damn_. No wonder Jon was in such good shape.

She reached her front porch, sweating profusely within her many layers, snow on her eyelashes , kicked up from her wading through the three-foot-deep drifts. She pushed the parka hood over her head, hair stringy over her face, Ghost leaping up to join her. Biting at her mittens, she removed them so she could fumble awkwardly with the keys, the blast of cold on her skin freezing them instantly. "Fuck," she cursed, dropping the set in the snow a few times, and having to rummage.

It took a few minutes and once she got the door unlocked, she turned the handle, pushing it open, and stepped into....

...chaos.

The entire ceiling above the dining area had collapsed onto the table and chairs, pink insulation forming a lake around the bits of sheetrock and plaster. Water dripped lazily from the massive hole, droplet after droplet plinking into the sodden mess around the table. She clicked her tongue, took a deep breath, and removed her phone from one of the many inner pockets, clicking a few pictures of the damage. She bypassed it, sweeping through the living room and gathering some of her remaining possessions, and marched up to the bedroom, doing the same there.

The kitchen was swimming in dirty water, courtesy of a busted pipe under the sink. She ignored it, removing the food that was in the cupboards that she could still salvage. She opened the fridge, gasping at the odor, and dumped the ruined food—yogurt and milk and tuna for the cats—into a bag, depositing it in the trash can behind the back door. When she finished, she left a note on the counter for her leasing agent.

_I AM NOT PAYING FOR ANY OF THIS. THANKS FOR NOTHING LANNISTER._

Dany left, slinging her bags over her shoulder, taking a deep breath and preparing to trek back down to Jon's place, when the low hum of an engine drew her attention towards the driveway. She laughed, watching Jon pull up in a large Land Rover. He poked his head out of the window, smiling. "It pays to know the locals here, they plowed a bit and got most of my drive. Thankfully this Defender can get through anything."

"Well my Jeep won't be able to get out for a while yet, I think."

"I'll call and see if they can't come plow your driveway."

The idea that she'd be able to get her car out meant that she'd be leaving. Dany nodded, saying nothing. She put her bags in the back, Ghost jumping in, and a few minutes later, they were back at Jon's house, the garage open and a couple of shovels propped against the side of the house. He'd tried to push aside some of the snow but had given up. She didn't fault him; it was an absolute mess. She didn't want to worry; they hardly knew each other after all and hoped that his heart was alright for all the exertion it took to shovel snow.

I mean, wasn't that how lots of old people died, she thought, they'd go out and shovel snow and just keel over? She climbed out, fretting internally, and didn't realize as she approached the garage, that something wet was tracking down her neck. She frowned, reaching back, and felt cold snow. She turned, in time to get a snowball hitting her straight in the boob. She clutched it, gasping. "Jon!"

He stifled a laugh, shrugging. "Sorry. Missed."

"What were you trying to hit!?" she shrieked.

"Your face, I guess."

"Augh!" She crouched, gathering up snow, but found it was difficult, the snow too powdery to form a ball. She wondered how he had done it so quickly, and by the time she made something that resembled a snowball, he'd already hit her three more times. She stomped her foot, complaining loudly. "Unfair! You have an advantage!"

"And what's that?"

"You're from the North!"

"So?" He hit her a couple more times and she pulled off a huge icicle from the porch, wielding it toward shim like a sword. He did the same, both of them laughing until hitting the icicles against each other broke them down to frozen stubs.

Then she watched, fascinated, as he fell backwards, spreading his arms out and fanning them and his feet in the snow, forming an angel. She did the same, turning to gaze sideways at him. HIs eyes had closed, his profile serene, cheeks ruddy from the exertions, and lips pulled in a soft smile. She turned to look up at the sky, wondering if this is what it was like in the North. "It's very cold," she muttered. She sniffed, feeling her nose begin to drip. She rubbed her hand under it and shoved them into the parka's pockets. The mitten shad bene no help making snowballs and now she was paying for letting them drop to the ground. "Does this remind you of home?"

"Hmmm, aye." He opened his eyes and glanced in her direction, quiet. "I came down here to get better, the dry heat and sun...I didn't want any reminders of the North. Guess it followed me down."

She chuckled. "My friends went up skiing in the North, I came here instead."

They were quiet, the only sounds coming from Ghost jumping around, a couple birds cawing somewhere in the forest, and a peculiar crackling that sounded like ice breaking. She wondered what it was, lifting her head to source the origin of the sound. Jon's hand came out, lightly touching her arm. "It's the snow falling in the trees," he murmured. He sat up, gazing down at her. He touched her nose, red-tipped and numb. He grinned. “Come on, let’s get inside before you get sick.”

“I never get sick.”

“Hmm, well you don’t seem like you’re in these temperatures all too often.”

They tromped back up into the house, removing the wet clothing, and while the thermostat still said a number that the inside of a house should never be, it did feel slightly warmer. She wondered when the water would come back on, because she could really use a shower, but for now, she thought, spinning around and flinging her arms around Jon’s neck. She grinned up at him. “You know, now that we don’t have to keep each other warm by sharing body heat, I think I’ll just move my stuff into that second bedroom.”

He gazed down at her; his face impassive. She paused, wondering if she had played this wrong, and then she squealed, before she knew what was happening, flung up into his arms and over his shoulder. “Aye, yeah I don’t think so.”

“Jon!” she giggled, kicking her feet. “Put me down!”

“Nope, body heat, need to share.”

She ended up bouncing up on his bed, where he later deposited her, grabbing for him and kissing him hard, mumbling against him. “Just doing your neighborly duty, right? Keeping me warm?”

“It’s what good neighbors do.”

And for that, Dany was eternally grateful.

* * *

Neither one of them spoke for another day and night about what would happen when she had to leave. Technically, her vacation ended the following day, but she couldn’t get her bloody car out of the drive and all she’d received from the Lannisters—once the WiFi came back on—was an email apologizing for any issues she might have and please provide feedback in a survey when she concluded her visit. She was going to _kill_ Tyrion Lannister.

The water started up again and she could get a hot shower; with Jon of course.

They still tended to sit in front of the fire, even though there was a perfectly good bed upstairs. It was just so bloody cold, it made more sense, they figured. She leaned against him, the evening before she was supposed to be going back to Essos and watched the fire play over his profile. She took a deep breath, venturing carefully into the topic of her leaving. “So…um…how long were you…planning to stay here?”

“Dunno…I…I’m still working on some things.” He ducked his head, brow furrowed. “It’s a lot. Processing and stuff. This storm didn’t help much.” He glanced out the window, whispering. “Kind of liked the idea of being as far from the North as possible.”

She squeezed his hand, lifting his knuckles up to her mouth, kissing gently and folded them tight within hers. It was good to get away. Sometimes it was what you needed. It was what she had needed, not realizing it at the time, but now with him here…she was grateful for it. Even if her vacation had been ruined.

Well, it hadn’t been ruined. It had actually…been better than she could ever have anticipated. Even with a freak snowstorm and destroyed rental house.

She cleared her throat, her eyebrow lifting, whispering. “Well, I…I need to get back to Essos and I…” She exhaled hard. “I mean…you can…you can come there. If you want.” _There, I said it._

Jon stilled under her; his breathing caught in his throat and after a moment, returned to normal. “You’re…you’re asking me to Essos?” _But you barely know me_ , he might as well have said. She might as well have said it too, but she didn’t, closing her eyes tight. He chuckled. “Dany that’s…”

“Stupid,” she mumbled.

He turned her face up to his, smiling down. He murmured, brows lifting. “I was going to say very sweet.”

She turned her face away and shrugged. “Well…you’re welcome to it. I’m pretty sure it won’t snow us in there.” She wiped at her nose, cringing. “Ugh, I’m so tired of this nose!” She stood up and went intot he bathroom, coming out with a box of Kleenex.

Jon laid back, his stomach flexing as he reached his arms behind his head, watching her curiously. “Hey Dany, you don’t look too good.”

“Well thanks, I mean this hasn’t been the most stressful of days, snowed in and no heating and plumbing,” she snarked. She wiped at her nose with one of the Kleenex and then at her eyes, which were watery. She coughed again, wrinkling her nose at the ache in her throat. She didn’t feel too great. She glanced down at him, waving her hand. “Sorry I said anything about Essos.” It was dumb. He was right, they barely knew each other.

Except he sat back up, arms draping over his knees, smiling softly. “I never said no, Dany.”

“Oh.”

“In fact, I was going to say…” He shrugged, ducking his head, playing with a strand of thread from the edge of the quilt. “If you don’t mind, but…I think you might be sticking around a couple more days.”

“And why is that?” She coughed again, wiping her nose and sat down next to him. When she moved to clear her throat, she rubbed at it, the ache returning. She felt like there was sandpaper there. “Ugh, my throat hurts.”

“Dany?”

“What?”

He pushed a pillow under her head and lifted a blanket up to her chin, setting the Kleenex beside her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, smiling serenely. “I think you’re going to be here a few more days.”

“Why do you say that?” That was the second time he said that. She coughed again. “Ugh! Why am I coughing?”

“Because you’re sick.”

“Sick!?” she yelped. She rubbed her nose furiously, staving off the snot beginning to form. “I am _not_ sick, I _never_ get sick!”

Jon grinned, tapping her red nose. “I’d say I told you so, but…well…I told you so.”

She threw the box of Kleenex at him, but couldn’t be _too_ angry. It pleased her, knowing she could spend a few more days with him, here in their little cocoon. She smiled, wiggling her finger at him. “But you’re not a doctor.”

“No, I’m a murderer.”

She giggled, falling back into the pillows as he said he would go get her some tea. “My fancy tea!”

“Your fancy tea.”

Ghost rushed up to settle next to her and she sighed, closing her eyes, idly stroking the dog’s soft white fur. It could have been the fever, but she felt incredibly warm, and later, as Jon let her cuddle up against him, she fiddled with her phone, giving her rental house one-star.

_Not prepared for a freak Dornish snowstorm, ceiling caved in, pipes burst, but the neighbor was worth it all._

**fin.**


End file.
